


Friends

by seaavery1



Series: Dean in Therapy [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: But it is getting better, Cannon Divergence, Dean Deserves to be Happy, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Has a Dog, Dean has a Fear of Flying, Dean is Loved, Dean is a Good Friend, Dean wants a dog, Dean writes, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Violence Involving Children/Teens, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Dean Winchester, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Hatred, Smart Dean Winchester, Therapy, Urge to drink, breakdown - Freeform, getting better, implied/referenced dog abuse/neglect, mentions of past violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 06:18:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 67,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8786839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seaavery1/pseuds/seaavery1
Summary: Dean starts to deal with his past and current friendships after a visit from Donna.





	1. Kindred Spirits

**Author's Note:**

> Here is the beginning of part four which will deal with friendships in Dean's life. First part is with Donna mainly. I have a bit of a thing for Dean and Donna's friendship and I wish we could see more of it in the show. I think they are kind of kindred spirits. I hope you enjoy this chapter. And as always, I welcome and love all feedback.

It had been a couple weeks since the group session and things were pretty good between Sam and Dean. He still hadn’t gotten up the courage to show Sam his poetry, but they were being more open and Dean had only had the urge to cancel their second, okay technically third, group therapy session every other day. Hey, it was better than several times an hour. 

 

They had gone on several hunts as well. One nearby haunting that was a pretty simple salt and burn. The other one involved some demons a few states over and that one did cause a few fractured ribs that Cas healed when they returned home. Amazingly Dean was able to fit in two therapy sessions in between. Everything was becoming very routine. 

 

A day after they had returned from their demon hunt, they got a visit from Donna. She said she had a few days off and was dying to see their secret lair. Seemed like they may need to get rid of the secret part. Dean had protested at first, the less people that knew about the place the better. He didn’t want to put anymore lives in danger. But Donna wouldn’t hear of it. She argued that somebody else needed to know about it in case some catastrophe happened and Sam and Dean were nowhere to be found. Dean still didn’t think it was a good reason, but Sam said she had a point. Dean wanted to laugh at that, but he eventually gave in.

 

Donna squealed with delight when she got the okay for the visit and Dean decided to try and lay down some ground rules. First of all, they would pick her up in town and take her, under cover, in the Impala, leaving her car parked at some motel. Second, she couldn’t tell anyone about the location. Not a soul. She swore herself to secrecy and Dean prayed they weren’t signing her death warrant. 

 

Donna’s jaw dropped when she finally got to see the bunker and it pretty much remained open during the whole tour. “Holy moly. This pace is freaking fantastic.” And her utter amazement when she met Cas was like watching a five year old on Christmas morning. She peppered him with so many question that Dean was worried for Cas’ sanity, but he just listened patiently and answered as many as possible.

 

Dean cooked a huge meal for all of them. Steaks, twice baked potatoes, sauted mushrooms, chocolate cake and even a salad. Cas had a few bites, Dean suspected out of courtesy, and Donna said she would need another four hours on the Stairmaster afterwards. Dean sat at the kitchen table afterwards, watching Sam, Donna and Cas cleaning up the kitchen. They were playfully arguing over who would wash and who would dry and Cas was busy questioning why either one of those would be preferable. And the smile on Dean’s face never faded. 

 

The kitchen had been cleaned, leftovers put away. Sam had stifled a yawn and said he was going to try and get some shut eye. He wished Donna a good night waved to Cas and Dean and lumbered to bed. Dean put on a pot of coffee, feeling more awake than he had in awhile. He asked Donna and Cas if they wanted to maybe watch a movie in the library, Dean had recently put in some comfy chairs and set-up a somewhat acceptable television. Cas excused himself, mentioning some  _ Black Mirror _ show he recently discovered on Netflix. He truly was becoming a streaming addict. He wished Donna a good night, even giving her a hug. 

 

Dean clasped his hands together. “So, what do you say, Donna? I’ll even let you choose.” 

 

She beamed at him. “Even if it’s some cheeseball romantic comedy?”

 

He faked annoyance. “Yes, but I draw the line at that Hallmark Channel crap.” Although secretly he had recently been watching a lot of their Christmas movies. 

 

She stuck her hand out. “Deal.” They shook hands and she excitedly followed him into the library. 

 

Turns out Donna was joking about that lovey-dovey crap. Instead she chose  _ Dazed and Confused _ , a choice Dean did not see coming. “I loved this movie when I was teenager.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Oh yeah, total babes in this.” She glanced at him. “Don’t worry, Dean. There are plenty of hot chicks in it too.” He laughed and settled in.

 

The film wasn’t half bad. Okay, truth was Dean was laughing so hard at times that he was sure he would wake Sam. And the soundtrack, man the soundtrack, it was absolutely killer. How had he never seen this movie before?

 

The ending credits were rolling and Dean was tapping his fingers to  _ Slow Ride _ and making a mental note to find this soundtrack. Yeah, maybe he’d even let Sam download it on ITunes. The music made it less douchey. 

 

Donna was smiling at him. “You look happy, Dean.”

 

He glanced at her. “Hey, good music and hot chicks will do that to you.”

 

She laughed. “Told ya it was a good movie.” She looked at him for a second, a wistful smile on her face. “But seriously, Dean. Happy looks good on you.”

 

He looked down and smiled shyly. “Thanks.”

 

“I don’t believe it. I’ve embarrassed Dean Winchester.” She clapped her hands in glee and Dean chuckled.

 

“Okay, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves here.”

 

“Too late mister. I consider this a personal triumph that I will never let go.

 

He put his head down. “Oh man.”

 

She playful kicked him. “So, what’s got you so happy anyway?” She wiggled her eyebrows. “New girl in your life.”

 

He scoffed. Yeah, that would be the day. “Not even close. I mean the last time-” He bit his lip, suddenly feeling embarrassed about his last little one night stand. Or maybe ashamed was the better word for it.

 

She leaned forward. “Hey, I could write a whole novel about broken hearts and missed opportunities, so no need to be embarrassed about that.”

 

He rubbed his neck. “Broken hearts and missed opportunities. Isn’t that the name of some country song?”

 

She laughed. “If it isn’t I’m gonna go ahead and write it.”

 

He looked at her for a moment, studying her face. Her eyes were always so open and so full of light, even in her darkest moments. It was like there was always this eternal optimist hiding behind every ounce of heartbreak and disappointment she had experienced. Dean was overcome with how much envied that. How much he wanted that feeling. Craved it even. “I wish I could be more like you.”

 

She looked down, a slight blush creeping up on her cheeks. He chuckled, “Shut up.”

 

He smiled. “I’m serious. You...you’re always so hopeful.”

 

She scoffed. “Yeah right.”

 

“I mean it. I envy that.”

 

She leaned back and looked at him. “Come on, Dean. You’ve been through so much in your life and you’re still able to find pleasure in movies, music, food and laughter. That’s rare.”

 

“Maybe I’m just simple.”

 

She shook her head. “Dean, you’re anything but simple.”

 

He smiled and looked down at his hands. “I...I’ve um...I’m in therapy.” He nodded and looked up at her. Her mouth was slightly ajar and there was no mistaking the shock in her eyes. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. 

“How long?”

 

He swallowed. “Like nine months.” Hearing those words out loud took him back. Wow, almost a year. He had been in therapy for almost a year. How did that happen?

 

“Wow. That’s...that’s-”

 

“Crazy.”

 

She leaned forward and put her hand on top of his. “Beautiful.”

 

He chuckled. “Beautiful?” He shook his head. “I can think of a lot of ways to describe it, but beautiful wouldn’t be one of ‘em.”

 

“Dean, I think it’s beautiful that you...that you…” She pursed her lips and Dean saw that she was trying to fight back tears. 

 

He turned toward her and reached a hand out to her. “Hey, it’s okay.”

 

She sniffed. “I’m just...I know that last year was...well I know how hard it was and I...I’m just glad that you’re here. That you’re...that you’re alive.”

 

“If Hell and Purgatory couldn’t beat me, there was no way some silly old Mark of Cain could take me out.” He winked at her. 

 

“You’re the strongest person I know.”

 

He swallowed and quickly looked away. “I don’t know about that.”

 

“You’ve been through hell and back, both literally and figuratively, and you still give your whole heart to everyone and everything.”

 

He shifted in his seat, rubbing his neck. “I hurt a lot of people, Donna.”

 

“I know, but you weren’t yourself.” 

 

“I didn’t just hurt people, Donna. I...I killed people and I...I got people killed. I can’t...I don’t think that makes me very strong.”

 

“We all have our demons Dean.”

 

“Mine are darker than most.”

 

“But you didn’t give up.”

 

He looked down at his hands. “I almost did. I was so close and sometimes-” He stopped himself before he said more than he thought Donna should be burdened with. “I just don’t see how I can be forgiven for what I did.”

 

She placed a hand on his arm. “It wasn’t you, Dean. The person who did those things, who hurt those people, wasn’t the real you.”

 

“I wish I could believe that.”

 

“Hey, you are a good man, Dean Winchester. One of the best men I know.” 

 

“Maybe you just don’t know enough people.”

 

“Stop it.” She turned so her whole body was facing him. She took both his hands in hers and the look in her eyes instantly gave away how wise she truly was. He swallowed. “You are a good man. You are sweet, funny, gorgeous, inside and out, brave, strong and smart as hell.”

 

He wanted to pull his hands away. He wanted to run and hide and tell her that was all a lie. Wanted to tell her that he was poison. That everything he cared about would eventually die simply because they had the misfortune of knowing him. But he forced himself to stay. Forced himself to take in her words, even if he couldn’t believe them. Even if they made him feel like a fraud. Like he had somehow deceived her. 

 

She squeezed his hands and he wanted to drown in her comfort. He blinked back tears. “Have you...have you ever been in therapy?” She blinked and pulled back a little, but still held on to his hands. God, he always screwed everything up. He shook his head and started to turn away. “Sorry, you don’t have to-”

 

She squeezed his hands again and he turned back to look at her. “Yeah, after my marriage fell apart.”

 

He felt such a surge of relief and a warmth in his chest that made him so damn grateful that he wanted to cry. “Did it help you?”

 

“It saved my life.”

 

“Yeah. I think it’s doing the same thing for me.” She smiled and gave his hands another squeeze. 

* * *

Donna left two days later and Dean was almost tempted to ask her to stay. She could take one of the other spare rooms. They could binge watch movies, listen to good music, eat good food and just laugh and talk. He could have another friend there. Someone who understood everything that Sam and Cas just couldn’t. But Dean wasn’t brave enough to ask for that.

 

She had pulled him aside before she left and told him that he could call her anytime he wanted. That she was there for him if he needed to talk to someone else who had been there. He smiled at her and pulled her into a tight embrace. “Thank you.” There was an emptiness in the bunker after she left and Dean tried not to let it drag him down. For the next few days he watched  _ Dazed and Confused _ every night before bed and listened to the soundtrack on repeat. 

 

A couple days later he was sitting in Laura’s office in the middle of the check-in and feeling so relieved to be there it scared him. 

 

Laura smiled at Dean. “How have you been, Dean?”

 

He crossed his arms. “Good.”

 

“Everything going well with you and Sam.”

 

“Yep.”

 

“And Cas?”

 

It was the first time Laura had asked about him in weeks and Dean was a little taken aback. “Um...yeah. He’s, well he’s Cas.” He rolled his eyes at how ridiculous that sounded. 

 

“It must be nice to have someone else around, a friend.”

 

“Sam’s my friend too.”

 

“I know, but sometimes it’s nice to have another person to talk to.”

 

“Yeah, I suppose.” He crossed his arms. “Our friend Donna came to visit us for a few days.”

 

“I don’t think you’ve mentioned Donna before.”

 

“She’s kind of in the same business.”

 

“How was it?”

 

He smiled. “She’s a lot of fun. She’s kind of a goofball, but we have a lot in common.”

 

“That must be nice.”

 

“Yeah.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I told her about therapy.”

 

“How did that go?”

 

“She said it was beautiful.” He let out a nervous laugh.

 

“How did that make you feel?”

 

“Well, at first I thought it was silly. But then...I don’t know. She said I was the strongest person she knows.”

 

“That must have been really nice to hear.”

 

He shrugged. “I guess.”

 

“Why do you guess?”

 

“I don’t know how true that is. I mean I know I’ve survived a lot, but...I’ve also done some horrible things and hurt a lot of people.”

 

“But you survived and you’re here. That’s strength.”

 

“She’s been in therapy too I guess.”

 

“I bet you’d find that more people have been in therapy than you might think.”

 

“Not in my line of work.”

 

“I think you’d be surprised.” He highly doubted that, but decided to drop it. “Did it make you feel better knowing someone else who’s been in therapy?”

 

“Yeah. It was like...you know I know Sam has come to a couple sessions and we have our group therapy thing. And Cas has been too, but...I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like they don’t really know all the work that’s involved. How hard it is.” He sat back. “But Donna does.”

 

“Was it hard when she left?”

 

He swallowed and looked down. “It was painful.” He let out a little chuckle. “Which seems so ridiculous because I’ve never felt that before with her.”

 

“It make sense. You found someone who understands. Who you said is very similar to you. And right now that’s something that can be very comforting.”

 

“She told me I could call her anytime.”

 

“Have you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Well, she’s only been gone a couple of days.”

 

“So.”

 

“I just...I don’t want to burden her or anything.” He pointed at Laura. “That’s what I pay you for.” 

 

“But I’m not your friend, Dean. I’m your therapist.” Dean was surprised at the little bit of pain he felt in his heart at that. “It is nice to also have a friend to talk to about what you’re dealing with.” He looked down. “Have you had many friends in your life, Dean? I mean besides your brother or Cas.”

 

He swallowed. “Not really. Like I’ve told you before, I’ve lost a lot of people.”

 

“I’m sorry. I know that’s been unbelievably painful.” He looked down. “Do you wish you had more friends?”

 

“I’m usually so busy with work and…I just don’t….I don’t have time for friends.”

 

“Does it scare you to make friends?”

 

He let out a deep breath. “Yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because people that get close to me...like I said, I’ve lost a lot of people.”

 

“Who was your closest friend other than Sam or Cas?”

 

He thought a moment, really not wanting to answer this. “Um...I don’t know. Maybe...probably Charlie. She was...she was like a sister, but also just...just a really good friend.” He felt his chin tremble at the name. He hadn’t talked about Charlie much since she died. Since her death pushed him over that edge. 

 

“Do you want to talk about Charlie?”

 

“Oh I don’t...I don’t think I’m ready to do that.”

 

“Okay. We don’t have to right now.” The “right now” hung over Dean’s head like an anvil that he feared would smash him into a thousand broken pieces someday. “So, other than Donna, Cas and Sam, do you have any other friends?”

 

“Are you trying to make me feel pathetic?” He smirked, wanting to change the topic. Turn this thing around before he started counting up the losses in his head.

 

“No.” Dean was beginning to suspect that she could call his bullshit from a mile away and man was that a terrifying thought. 

 

He shifted in his seat and ran a hand through his hair. “Um...Jody, she’s a cop that was a friend of...of Bobby’s. But she’s busy with...she kind of took these two teenagers in, so that occupies her time.” He looked up, racking his brain to see if there were any other friends that were alive. There was Garth, but he wasn’t sure he could call the werewolf a friend. And there was no way he could go there with Crowley. Their little bromance when Dean was a demon was as close as he ever wanted to get to being chummy with the King of Hell. And Rowena...yeah, no. He tried to recall other hunters, but Dean and Sam had pretty much kept their distance from fellow hunters for awhile now. 

 

“Dean?” He shook his head, realizing he had been quiet for awhile now.

 

“Sorry, I...I have work acquaintances.” That is what Crowley and Rowena would be he supposed. He felt a little sick at that thought. “But...no. Like I said, after you lose a dozen or so people in your life you tend to keep to yourself.”

 

“What about when you were a kid?” Jesus, what was this woman’s obsession with his childhood.

 

He shrugged. “I mean we traveled a lot. Not really time to make a lot of close friends.”

 

“Do you remember your first friend?”

 

He thought for a moment and smiled. “Julie. She lived next to me when I was a kid. She was kind of a tomboy. We would build little forts and play with G.I. Joes.” He laughed. “We would get so dirty in the summer that my mom would have a fit every time we tracked our dirty shoes in the house.” He looked down. “After my mom...after the funeral I remember she...she sat with me on the porch, just silent. It was like she somehow knew at that age that I didn’t need anyone to talk to me or try and tell me everything was going to be okay, when it never could be.” Dean shook his head and rubbed his chin. “Anyway, we left soon after and...well, you can’t take your friends on the road with you.” He blinked back tears and glanced toward the window.

 

“Was she your only friend when you were a kid?”

 

“I met kids when we were in school, but they...well, they kind of looked down on us.” He shrugged. “I learned really quickly that friends were things that kids like us didn’t get.”

 

“That must have been really lonely.” That was another thing she liked to say a lot.

 

“Whatever, that’s in the past.” He picked at some dirt under his fingers and cursed his appearance yet again. 

 

“And as an adult did you continue that thinking?”

 

“Look, I’ve made friends through our line of work.” Benny flashed in his mind and Kevin. Poor Kevin. And Jo and Charlie again. Too many that he lost. Why did he have to bring up Donna? “But it’s hard when you lose so many.”

 

“Do you want to talk about any of those losses?”

 

He swallowed and stared at her for a minute. “You mean the ones that died?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He took a deep breath. “No.”

 

“Okay. We don’t have to talk about that now” And that impending anvil was growing larger. “Dean, if there was no worry about losing your friends. If there was no looming threat or dread that you had. Would you want more friends?”

 

“I guess. I mean, sure.”

 

“Maybe there is a way that you can, Dean. Maybe you don’t have to lose everyone.” 

 

“Perhaps.” Was she kidding him. There was no way that could happen. 

 

“And I know you don’t want to talk about the losses yet, but consider maybe writing them a letter.”

 

“You really love those letters.”

 

She let out a laugh, which kind of surprised Dean. “I think it’s a very good tool.”

 

“Maybe.” Because the truth was they really were helping. 

 

“And maybe you can even write one to Julie.”

 

He laughed. “Seriously?” She nodded. “Come on, I was like four.”

 

“So.”

 

“So, she was...I mean what am I going to say to her?”

 

“Whatever you want. She was there when your life changed completely.”

 

“I’m not gonna send it to her.” He had no clue why he would even mention that. He had no way of finding her. Well, okay, he probably could, but there was no way he was going to track down a childhood friend and give her some stupid letter he wrote in therapy.

 

“Never said you should.”

 

He scratched his head. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

 

“Good.” She smiled like she had won some big victory and Dean supposed she had. “And call Donna.” Okay, now she was pushing it.

 

“Maybe.” He smiled.

 

* * *

 

Dean was lying in bed on top of the covers, fully dressed, headphones on, the  _ Dazed and Confused _ soundtrack playing on a loop. He kept staring at his phone, Donna’s contact info displayed in front him. God, he was acting like a goddamn chick right now. He could do this. What was the big deal? 

 

He removed the headphones and stood up, pacing with the phone still in hand. Why was he so nervous? Jesus, it was just Donna. Sweet, good natured, funny and loveable Donna. “Okay, I can do this.” He swallowed, sat back down on the bed, and pushed the call button. She answered on the second ring and he could hear her smile in her greeting and it gave him just a little bit of courage. “Hey, Donna.” 

 

They talked for almost two hours, which had to be the longest conversation Dean had ever had on the phone. He talked about the letters he had been writing. About the group therapy with Sam. About how he was trying to give up drinking, but he managed to leave out the part about how he had almost bought a bottle whiskey nearly every day since. He told her almost everything. And she told him about how she struggled with her weight, an issue that Dean really didn’t think was one. She looked great, but he could hear the self-doubt and self-hatred in her voice and he sympathized. She talked about trying to date and how hard it was for her to let down her walls with any new man. Dean silently vowed to kick her ex-husband’s ass if he ever saw him. 

 

They finally got off the phone after Dean had heard her stifle her fifth yawn and insisted she get some shut-eye. She made him promise to call her if he ever needed to talk again or if he was ever having any doubts or even if he just wanted to talk about movies. He thanked her and told her to do the same. When he hung up he realized how much he really needed this. Just someone to talk to. Someone who didn’t know his whole life story. Who didn’t need him to protect them, well for the most part. Someone that he could just shoot the shit with. A friend. Man that sounded cheesy. 

 

He was still wide awake and he paced the room for a minute, making sure every weapon, every record, was in it’s right place. He opened up his laptop, looking for something, he didn’t know what. Maybe some case. Something he could delve into. After a few minutes of seeing nothing of interest, he shut the computer off and grabbed his head phones. He lay back on on his bed, music playing and he glanced over to his desk. He felt that weird magnetic pull he had started to feel lately. He looked away and tried to just concentrate on the music, but after a few minutes he felt his eyes wandering over to the tiny desk again. He sighed, took the headphones off, and walked over to the desk. He sat down, pulling out a piece of paper, and began to write. 

  
  
  



	2. First Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean starts to discuss loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some little warnings about this chapter: talk of PTSD, past death, past violence, references to Dean's continued struggles with alcohol, some possible self-destructive behaviors (pretty mild though). Lots of curse words. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left a kudo, comment or read this work so far. I know I say it every time, but it really does mean the world to me. <3

Dean tapped his fingers on the armrest of the couch in Laura’s office. Some weird nervous habit he suspected he had picked up in here. Laura glanced at his hand, jotted down some note, and then looked at him. “Do you get nervous a lot, Dean?”

 

“No.” She glanced at his hand again, the fingers still tapping, and Dean followed her eyeline. He instantly withdrew his hand and crossed his arms. “I had a song in my head and just can’t seem to get it out.” He could tell that she wasn’t buying that. 

 

“A lot of people get nervous coming in here.”

 

“I’m not nervous. I mean I’ve been coming here for-” And there it was again. Almost a year. “A long time. I think I know what to expect.”

 

She studied his face for a minute and then turned back to her notebook. “Did you call Donna?”

 

“Yeah.” Since his initial talk with Donna, Dean had found himself talking to her on the phone two more times. Each conversation lasting for about two hours. He wouldn’t admit it, but the comfort he felt was giving him some sort of hope. 

 

She smiled. “I’m proud of you, Dean.” He tried to ignore the overwhelming happiness he felt at hearing her say those words. “Really, you should give yourself a pat on the back.” He laughed. “Do you have a hard time hearing praise?”

 

“Me? No way. I’m pretty much all together awesome.” She cocked an eyebrow at him and he once again sensed that she could read his bullshit all too well. He shrugged. “Look, I don’t feel the need to be complimented all the time. I know I’m good at my job and that’s good enough for me.”

 

“Have your friends ever complimented you?”

 

“Like I said, I’m good at my job.”

 

“That’s not what I asked you.” He shrugged and Laura looked down at her notebook. “Last week you told me that Donna said you were a strong person.”

 

“That’s not a compliment.”

 

“Yes it is, Dean.” 

 

“Look, I’m not all touchy-feely, okay.”

 

“If I were to tell you that you really know how to fix an engine, how would you take that?”

He had no idea where this weird thought process was going. “I would think you’re probably having car trouble.”

 

“And what if I were to tell you that you’re funny?”

 

“Well, that’s pretty obvious” He winked at her.

 

She blew right past his attempt at levity. “And what if someone said you’re smart?”

 

He scooted back as far as he could on the couch. “People don’t like to tell people when they’re stupid.”

 

“People telling you that you’re smart is just them being, what, polite?”

 

“Polite can be another form of lying.”

 

“So, you think that I’m a liar?”

 

He looked at her for a few seconds. He looked away. “I think you bend the truth.”

 

“I see. And Sam, he bends the truth as well?”

 

Dean shook his head. “Look, I know you guys mean well and maybe it’s part of my therapy, but I know it’s not the truth.”

 

“Lying to you is not a technique I ever use.” Dean glanced up at her. She was looking directly at him, not a hint of anger or malice. No trace of a lie. 

 

“I’m sorry that I...I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything. I just...I don’t see myself that way.” He sighed. “Because it’s not true.”

 

“If we tell ourselves we our something long enough we can began to believe it’s true.” He looked away and tried to think of someway to get off this subject, but his mind was a blank and she kept going. “Do you remember how shut off you were when you first came here? You tried your hardest to show me this person you thought you needed to be. This person who didn’t need to get bogged down in feelings. Who was just an older brother and a good worker with just a GED. But you know what I see now, Dean?” He tugged on the hem of his shirt and glanced down. “I see a strong, sensitive man who has tried to keep everyone safe for so long that he forgot to take care of himself. I see a man who loves so deeply that it scares him. A man who would lay down his life for the people he cares about in a heartbeat. Someone who can remember things most forget. Someone who pays attention to every detail and who respects others with the same strength he posses. Someone who would rather hide in the shadows than to have his brother believe he was less than. You’re much more than just a surrogate father or a good worker. You’re a complex and beautiful human being. Not to mention incredibly intelligent, creative and a gifted writer.” He looked up at her, searching her eyes for some lie. Something that she was leaving out. Maybe a joke she meant to add. But all he saw was warmth and honesty. 

 

They sat in silence for a moment and then Dean decided to let one more brick be removed from that wall. “ “My dad…my dad used to keep this journal. It was like this record of him and our life. All the jobs he took us on. All the towns we passed through.” He swallowed. “I...I started one.” If you could really call a piece of paper shoved into a drawer a journal.

 

“That’s wonderful, Dean.”

 

“I mean my dad’s was...I don’t have as good of handwriting, but I’m trying.”

 

“Is it about your job?”

 

“Sort of, but it’s different and...” He sat up straighter and suddenly felt a wave of nerves flow through him. “I’m not going to bring it in here though and I’m not showing Sam, okay?”

 

“Journals are often private. I would respect that.”

 

“Thank you.” He relaxed a bit. 

 

“You know sometimes a journal can serve as a place to vent. If you can’t talk to anyone else, you can write it down.”

 

“Yeah. I started after I talked to Donna.”

 

“How was that conversation?”

 

“We talked for like two hours. That’s the longest I’ve ever talked to anyone on the phone.” He smiled. “But it was actually really nice. I forgot how it could be, you know, to just have a friend to talk to.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean I have Sam and Cas of course, but...with Donna it’s not just about work or some huge catastrophe. It was like...it was normal.”

 

“Did you ever have a friend like that after your mom died?”

 

“Like I said, we didn’t have time for that.”

 

“There was never anyone you could talk to like that?”

 

He blinked. “Not really.” He swallowed. “Every person I’ve gotten close to has pretty much been in the same line of work.”

 

“But you could open up to Donna and you said she was in the same line of work.”

 

“I know, but it’s just different I guess.” He shrugged. “She’s not consumed by it”   _ Or at least not yet, he thought.  _ And god he hoped she never would be.

 

“Do you worry that you’ll lose her?”

 

He swallowed and felt his chest instantly tighten. “Yes.”

 

“Dean, I know that you have suffered a lot of loss in your life.” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

She took a deep breath and Dean could tell that she was preparing herself for something. It was the first time Dean had seen her look a little unsure and it was completely unnerving. She looked down, placed her hands in her lap and then looked back up at him. “Who was the first friend you lost?”

 

He swallowed and decided he was going to avoid this for as long as he could. “Julie. I already told you that.”

 

“That’s not the loss I was talking about.”

 

Dean clasped his hands together. “I thought you said I didn’t have to talk about that stuff.”

 

“And you don’t have to. Not until you’re ready.”

 

“And what if I’m never ready?”

 

She gave him a sad smile and he had the sudden urge to flee. “Do you remember when you first started coming here and I mentioned post-traumatic stress disorder to you?”

 

He felt his chest tighten. He adjusted his shirt, picking at some non-existent dirt. “Yeah, but I don’t have that.”

 

“Dean-”

 

He glared at her. “I don’t have that.”

 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

 

“I’m not ashamed of anything. I don’t have some...I’ve lost a shit ton of people in my life. So has Sam. So has Cas. Do they have PTSD or whatever?”

 

“That’s not how it works.”

 

He crossed his arms. “Look, I gave up drinking and I’m writing these stupid letters and now this journal. What more do you want from me?”

 

“My job is to help you heal.”   
  


“There’s nothing I need to heal from.” He knew it was bullshit. Pure bullshit. And she knew it too. 

 

“How many people have you lost?”

 

“A lot. I don’t know the exact number.”

 

“When soldiers-”

 

He held up his hand. “I’m not a soldier.” Although he supposed there was part of him that was. Daddy’s good little soldier. But he wasn’t on the level of those who really sacrificed. Cas, no Cas was a soldier. His dad...he shook his head. “I just...what is the point of talking about people I’ve lost. I’ve already talked about my mom and my dad way more than I should.”

 

“Should?” 

 

“Should. Wanted to. Whatever. The point is that there is no point in talking about this.”

 

“Have you ever grieved the loss of these friends?”

 

Like he had time to do that. Like he could just take a week to wear all black and cry. “I don’t have time to do that.”

 

“Well, maybe you should try and take the time.”

 

“You don’t understand. The way my life is...when Charlie-” He felt his hands shaking and could swear he could feel the heat from where the Mark used to be. He grabbed his arm. “I didn’t handle that well and if I bring up...if I have to bring up all those deaths I’m afraid that I’ll…” He let go of his arm and looked down. “I’m afraid that I’ll never come back from that.”

 

She leaned forward. “Dean, that’s what I’m here for. I won’t let you disappear into that grief.”

 

He glanced up at her and wanted so badly to believe her. “I don’t-” He shook his head and glanced away. 

 

“We’ll take it one at a time and we can stop when it gets be too much.”

 

He looked at her and tried to will himself to put the walls up taller. To shut his heart down and not go there. He was so scared to go there. The blood it brought last time…Dean spoke just above a whisper, “Josh.” No going back now.

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

Dean cleared his throat. “Josh. He was...he was the first friend I lost.”

 

“How old were you?”

 

“Fourteen. He was fifteen and he lived...he lived the same sort of life. Always on the road. But he had his mom and dad with him. ”

 

“How did he die?”

 

Dean felt his throat tighten. “Hunting accident.” 

 

“Were you there when he died?”

 

“Yes.” Josh and Dean had decided to try and take out a nest of vamps all by themselves. They had snuck out of the house the families had been holed up in. The first two kills were fairly easy, but they weren’t counting on the sheer number of vampires in the nest. There were easily almost two dozen and they were quickly outnumbered. Josh had stood in between Dean and this really nasty asshole and that’s when it happened. The asshole and his lady grabbed Josh and dragged him off, devouring him. Dean’s dad and Josh’s parents had burst in at this time. They took out the nest and dragged Dean away, his dad yelling at him. Asking him what the hell he thought he was doing. All of it noise in his ears as he just kept seeing the blood. All the blood. 

 

But the worst part was the look on his mother’s face. Her eyes were shooting daggers at him and the heartbreak was almost enough to suffocate Dean. He had tried to apologize. Tried to make it right. She had looked right at him and told him it should’ve been him. He can still hear her voice sometimes. Just like he can smell Josh’s blood in his nightmares. 

 

He shook his head, trying to bring his attention back to the room. He had a feeling he had missed something by the way Laura was looking at him. Why did he have to let the walls down? He blinked. “I’m sorry?”

 

“I said that must have been very painful.”

 

Dean felt his lip quiver and could feel himself shaking. “It was my fault.”

 

“I thought you said it was an accident?”

 

He looked down at his hands. “I was the one who said we should go hunting by ourselves and...and he was so new to it. I was trying to show off and...and he…” Dean closed his eyes and felt the tears coming. “I’ve always just done that. Gotten people killed.”

“Dean, you were a kid.”

 

He opened his eyes and shook his head. “I stopped being a kid long before that.”

 

“No matter how grown up you thought you were, you were still a kid.”

 

“His mom was so...I’ve never seen anyone so shattered. I mean, other than my dad, but he hid it well. Or tried to. She was...she was never the same.”

 

“That’s not your fault, Dean.”

 

“But I should’ve saved him. I should’ve saved all of them.”

 

“That’s not your job.” But it was. It was the only job he knew. And he sucked at it. 

 

He sniffed and wiped away some tears. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

 

“We can take a break.”

 

“I want to leave.”

 

“Dean-”

 

“Please. I’ll be back next week. I just...please.”

 

She studied him for a few moments and he could tell she was trying to decide if he was safe or if he was going to jump off some cliff. “Okay. But if you’re feeling unsafe at all you-”

 

“I’ll call. I know the drill.” He could still see the uncertainty in her face and truth was Dean wasn’t sure he was safe, but he also knew he couldn’t sit here any longer. He gave her a quick smile. “I promise. I’ll be back.”

 

He stood up and his hand on the door. “Wait, Dean.” He stopped, wanting to just yank the door open and run. “Next week is your next group therapy appointment with Sam.” Shit, he’d forgotten about that.

 

“Fine. Whatever.” he yanked the door open.

 

“We can always reschedule that one or schedule an-” Dean rushed out the door, not needing to hear the end of that sentence. He nearly ran all the way down to the Impala. He flung himself into the driver’s seat and started banging his hands against the steering wheel. “God dammit!” He clutched on to the steering wheel, gripping it so tight that his knuckles turned white. “Fucking idiot.” He turned the engine and peeled out of the parking lot.

 

Dean sped along the city streets, other cars just flashes. He wasn’t even sure if he stopped at any stoplights. He drove for maybe twenty minutes before he stopped, not even realizing where he was. He turned the engine off and looked out the window. The neon open sign in front of the bar flickered across the windshield and Dean started laughing. Laughing so loud that a few people that passed by turned to stare. He leaned over the steering wheel, clutching his side and laughing like a crazy person. Soon his whole body was shaking with laughter. Hell, the whole car seemed to be shaking with it. He tried to collect himself and he wiped his eyes and let out another chuckle. He looked at the bar and the neon sign, letting the red and blue attack his eyes till they felt like they were on fire. He reached a hand out and touched the windshield, half expecting he could touch that neon sign. That he could destroy it. Just make it disappear. His vision became blurry and it looked like it was raining. He wondered when the clouds had come in, when he felt a wet droplet hit his hand. He looked down and saw more wet droplets hit his jeans. He reached a hand up and touched his cheek. It was wet. Almost soaked with tears. He started sobbing almost as loudly as when he had been laughing. The tears drowning him and tearing creeping up all the walls he was trying to hide behind. 

 

* * *

 

He sat in the bar’s parking lot for another twenty minutes trying to collect himself. When he finally had his breathing under control, and he was pretty positive that there were no more tears to be shed, he started the car. He supposed he should give himself a pat on the back for actually choosing to leave that bar, but he didn’t have the energy. He drove toward the bunker and hoped that he would be able to sneak into his room without any questions. He was sure his bloodshot eyes would get him nothing but questions that he was not prepared to answer. 

 

Dean was stopped at a stop light when something caught his attention. There was a tiny little strip mall to his left, most units had for lease signs in the windows except for a liquor store and a small little book store. He stared at the bookstore and when the light turned green he turned left instead of going straight. Dean pulled into a parking space directly in front of the store and sat there staring straight ahead. He tried to recall a time he had ever been to a bookstore when it wouldn’t have been for a case. He glanced to the right of the store and saw the neon signs in the liquor store. It would be so easy to just go in there and get a bottle of whiskey or even a twelve pack. He could find somewhere to park, drink them all down. Numb this pain inside. Forget about everything. He leaned forward and licked his lips trying to get just a taste of what would be inside there. The jingle of the bookstore’s door opening shook Dean back to reality. He looked forward and shook his head. He turned off the engine.

 

The bookstore had a musty smell and needed a serious dusting, but there was something comforting about being surrounded by so many words. Dean nodded a hello to the older man behind the counter and started walking around the store. It was pretty tiny, maybe four rows in total. Everything divided into genres. He pursued the shelves, stopping when in front of an old copy of  _ Slaughterhouse-Five _ . He smiled and picked the book up, flipping through. He could practically hear his father’s voice recalling the time his mom and dad met. He supposed that that was why he always loved  _ Vonnegut _ . The connection it gave him to the happiness that could’ve been. He held on to the book and continued walking down the aisles. He stopped in front of the poetry section and stopped in front of a collection of  _ Jack Kerouac _ poems. He picked it up and continued on. When he got to the fourth aisles he saw them, journals. All sizes and colors. He walked over to them and just stared. He had no idea how one was supposed to choose something like this. His dad’s journal was so...he didn’t want to get one like it. That one was all his dad’s. He ran his hand along the covers, deciding instantly to avoid any with flowers or bright pink on the covers. Then he saw it. It was black with a drawing of a classic car on the front. It wasn’t his Baby, but it was so damn close. He quickly grabbed it and rushed to the counter. The older man behind the counter complimented him on his choses in reading material and even asked him if he was a writer. Dean quickly said no and grabbed the bag the man handed him and rushed from the store. 

 

Unfortunately, when Dean got back to the bunker both Sam and Cas were waiting for him. Cas had this sad and confused look on his face and Sam had his arms crossed. Dean tried to rack his brain to see what he could’ve possibly done. He hadn’t gone into that bar. He hadn’t sought comfort in a bottle of whiskey. He looked between them and touched his face briefly. His eyes must still be bloodshot. The man in the bookstore didn’t seem to notice. Of course he had tried to avoid eye contact and the man was older and- “Dean!” Sam clapped his hands and Dean jumped a bit. 

 

He shook his head and tried to smile. “Sorry, what?”

 

“Where the hell have you been!?” Jesus, did he go into that bar?

 

“Therapy.”

 

Sam pursed his lips and shook his head. “Your therapist called us. She said you left in the middle of your session.” 

 

Dean rubbed his head. “Jesus, I told her I was leaving.”

 

Sam shrugged. “So, then where did you go?”

 

“I went for a drive.”

 

“I swear to God, Dean, if you’ve been drinking-”

 

“I haven’t been drinking, Sam. You can smell my breath if you want to.” Dean looked to Cas, hoping his friend would maybe stick up for him. Say something in his defense. But he just stood there, that “humans confuse me” look on his face. Dean sighed. “Look, I had a shitty session and I just wasn’t ready to come home. I didn’t drink. I just drove and then I...I stopped at a bookstore.” Dean held up the bag.

Sam furrowed his brow. “You stopped at a bookstore.”

 

“Yeah, is that so hard to believe?”

 

“Kind of.”

 

“Well, I did and I’m tired and just want to go to sleep. If that’s okay with you two?”

 

“You should call your therapist.”

 

Dean scoffed, “Fine. Can I leave now?” He looked between Cas and Sam. 

 

Sam nodded and Cas finally spoke. “Goodnight, Dean.”

 

Dean laughed and walked toward his room. He slammed the door and threw the bag down on the bed. Just great. He resisted every temptation and still got treated like a child. He thought this was getting better. Hadn’t it? He grabbed his phone and noticed that he had missed two calls from Laura, five from Sam and a couple from Cas. How had he missed that. He quickly called Laura and told her he was fine and that he would see her next week. He plopped down on his bed and looked up at the ceiling. Maybe he shouldn’t be so mad. He had run out of there when she was mid-sentence. He glanced at the bookstore bag and pulled out the journal. What was he thinking? He should just stick to random pieces of paper. He tossed the journal aside and threw his arm across his face. 

 

There was a soft knock on the door and Dean was tempted to tell whoever it was to just go to hell. He took a deep breath. “Come in.” Cas opened the door and stood in the doorway, looking around with a look of apprehension. Dean threw his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. “You can come in the room, Cas.”

 

He looked down for a moment like he was afraid that the floor beneath him was on fire. After a moment longer he took a step inside the room. He tried to casually lean against the wall, or as casual as an Angel of the Lord could get. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, Dean.”

 

“I’m fine, okay. You and Sam have got to get another hobby besides worrying about me.”

 

Cas stepped away from the wall and took a few steps closer to Dean. “I know you think that Sam and I don’t trust you.”

 

“I get it, okay. I mean why the hell should you guys trust me. Especially…” Dean looked down at his hands, almost expecting to see the cuts and blood from the time he nearly killed...he quickly clasped his hands together. “I don’t deserve your trust.”

 

Cas walked over to Dean and sat down next to him on the bed. Normally he would have wanted to give him a lecture on the continued personal space issue, but there was something very comforting in it. “Dean, we’ve all hurt each other in so many ways. I alone have done so much damage to that trust.”

 

He glanced over at Cas. “Cas, we forgave you for that a long time ago.”

 

Cas placed his hand on Dean’s shoulder and instead of trying to pull away Dean found himself relaxing into the touch. “We’ve forgiven you too, Dean. I’ve forgiven you.”

 

He let out a breath and put his face in his hands. “I found myself in front of a bar today. Didn’t even remember driving there. But I didn’t go inside.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

“And then I found myself in front of a liquor store.” Dean wasn’t looking at him, but he could feel the concerned look that came across Cas’ face at that moment. “It would’ve been so easy to go in there and just buy a bottle of whiskey. Hell, there’s a part of me that thinks that’s what I should’ve done.” Dean looked over at Cas. “But you know what I did instead?” Cas shook his head. “I went into that bookstore.” Cas smiled at him. “Did Sam tell you about how I used to write?”

 

“No.”

 

“I only recently told him. Poetry, if you can believe it?”

 

“That seems to make perfect sense.” 

 

Dean looked at him and knitted his brow. Cas really believed that. He shook his head and looked away. “Anyway, I started writing letters as part of my therapy, you know, and then...then the other night I started to write like journal entries.”

 

“Like your father.”

 

“No. Not really. They were more like...my thoughts on things that have happened to me. To all of us.” Dean started laughing. “That’s so ridiculous.”

 

“Why is that ridiculous?” Cas was starting to remind him of Laura.

 

“Because I’m a grown ass man. I don’t need to keep a diary.”

 

“Aren’t you talking about your feelings in therapy?’

 

“Yes.”

 

“So then why should a journal be any different than that?”

 

Dean smiled at Cas and he stood up, walking over to where he had tossed the journal. “I bought this today.” Dean handed Cas the journal. 

 

“This is very you, Dean.”

 

He chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He sat back down. “So, you really think this is okay?”

 

He smiled. “Yes, Dean. I’ve met many writers in my day and while many of them also had a problem with, well with alcohol, they were also very strong. Very interesting. And you are definitely a strong and interesting man, Dean Winchester.”

 

Dean swallowed and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Thanks, Cas.” Cas nodded to him.

 

* * *

 

Dean sat at the desk in his room, the previously written journal entry laid out in front of him. He wanted to try and keep all of this together in one book, but he wasn’t sure how he would transfer these first pages into the journal he purchased. He thought about taping them to some of the pages, but decided he didn’t like the way that would look. If that wasn’t the silliest thought ever. He finally settled on just copying what he already written and tried like hell to not censor himself. He flattened the first page and opened up the journal. He started to write and found that he only edited maybe a few words. After he was done copying the two pages, he turned to a blank page and his pen hovered above the paper. He sat like that for almost ten minutes before he gave up. He shut the notebook and put away the pen. There was always tomorrow. He could still try to write more. 

 

Dean spent the next hour diving into some  _ Vonnegut  _  and reliving old stories his dad told him in his head. He could almost picture his mom and dad’s little meet-cute outside that theater. He reminded himself that there was a time when they were just Mary and John. Sweethearts. Soulmates. Human beings. 

 

* * *

 

_ December 5th, 2016 _

 

_ I don’t even know how I’m supposed to do one of these things. I guess the dating thing is pretty usual, right? I don’t even know why I’m doing this. Maybe I should talk about some cases, but really I just want to talk about my life. Or our life. Our life after dad. After mom. Of course it seems like every second of our life has pretty much been “after mom”. I’m in therapy. Yes, Dean Winchester is in therapy. And I’ve been in therapy for nearly a year now. A whole year. Am I the first hunter to ever do this? I mean yeah, Donna is kind of an honorary hunter. Wait, am I supposed to name names in here? I guess it doesn’t matter since there is no way in hell I’m letting anyone else read this.  _

 

_ It’s hard sometimes though to go to these sessions and not be able to reveal all. I can’t tell her the reason there might be flecks of blood on my shoes is because I forgot to clean them after I chopped that vamps head off. Or explain that the bruises weren’t from some ridiculous bar fight or self-inflicted. Nope, those were from some evil son of a bitch tossing me into a wall. She thinks I can be forgiven for the mistakes I have made, but she doesn’t know how I once had eyes black as night and a heart that was ice cold. She doesn’t know that I killed people. That there was one point when I was so full of rage that I just wanted to see the whole world burn down. She doesn’t know how violent I was. How lost. I could never tell her that because I could see a padded cell in my future. But I wonder sometimes how much help I’m really getting while I’m lying to her. Maybe we should’ve tried to find someone who was familiar with our line of work. Wait, are there therapists familiar with our line of work? I mean there have to be, right?  _

 

_ But I have to admit I actually kind of like her. It’s like she doesn’t see me as some soldier. Some fucked up savior. She just sees me as some normal fucked up man who lost his parents. An orphan I suppose. And yes, I do think she’s helping me. Yeah, I’m definitely not showing this shit to anybody.  _

 

_ So, I guess journal’s are a place to share the crap you don’t tell anyone else, right? Who the hell am I asking all these questions to anyway? Jesus, maybe I’m a little crazy or maybe I’ve been talking about my feelings too much. I mean an hour almost once a week is a little too much. It’s even spilling over. But someone told me recently that I looked happy. Maybe that’s something. I don’t know if it’s the truth. I know there are days when I actually feel some sort of hope and man I never thought I would say that again. But I also know there is something else inside me. This dark pit. This guilt that I can’t shake. And man I don’t think I deserve to shake it. Maybe that’s why I’m doing this. Maybe I can write the stuff down that I couldn’t tell Laura. That I can’t even tell myself half the time.  _

 

_ I spent two hours on the phone with a..with a friend tonight. A friend. Such a foreign concept. Yes, I’ve had friends in my life. I know this. And I have Cas, but he’s become like family. But maybe that’s what happens with all the great friends. They become family. But family leaves. Family dies. I guess I can’t say that about Cas anymore. Can I? Hell, if the guy isn’t going to leave after I nearly killed him then I guess nothing will drive him away. Jesus, I nearly killed him. That really happened. Man, what a fucked up life we lead. Cas has tried to kill me. We’ve all tried to kill each other and almost ended the world a couple of times.  _ _ My mom must be crying in Heaven right now. _ _ God, I hate that thought. I need to erase that.  _

 

_ I talked about Julie in therapy the other day. Man, I haven’t thought about her in years. She was the first friend I ever had and the only one before mom died. Before dad’s heart shattered into a million pieces. Sometimes I wonder how mine hasn’t been completely destroyed. Who the hell am I kidding, my heart broke years ago.  _

 

_ Christ this is getting to be a little too touchy feely for me right now. I mean there is only so much emotion one guy can take. I guess you sign off on these things. Though my dad never really did. But this isn’t like that. No one’s gonna learn some big lesson from this. Although, I am kind of a badass at times. How many people can say they survived Hell, Purgatory and the Mark of Cain? Yeah, I’m kind of awesome. Haha.  _

 

_ Over and out or some shit. _

 

_ Dean Winchester _

  
  
  
  



	3. Flammable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean faces another group therapy session with Sam

_ December 17, 2016 _

 

_ In two days I- _

 

Dean lifted the pen, journal in his lap. He took a long drink of water, almost finishing off the glass. He had been trying to write a second journal entry for almost a week now and on top of that the first journal entry was now almost two weeks old. Why the hell did he care so much? Teenage girls wrote in diaries or journals or whatever. Not grown ass men who had...this was ridiculous. He didn’t have to keep doing this. It was for no one but himself, right? “Right.” Dean stood up and started perusing his records, trying to find something to listen to. Something to distract him from that annoying...

 

Or he could just bullshit his way through this second entry. Get it out there so he could finally stop thinking about it. It was like the first time he tried to write a poem in his English class. He would sneak away or try and write when his dad and Sam were asleep. He must have crossed off the first line over a hundred times. It shouldn’t have been that hard, he could just try and find random words that rhymed. But he wanted to perfect it. No, he wanted to feel it. He needed to feel it and that was the most foreign thing of all. Now this journal was haunting him in the same way. Dean finished off his glass of water and leaned over the journal, still lying open on his bed. He could do this. No problem. Just pick it up, write the entry and put it away. He reached for the journal when there was a knock on his door. He dropped it like it was on fire. 

 

He cleared his throat, “Who is it?”

 

“Dean, it’s me. Can I come in?” Sam said.

 

Shit. Dean quickly grabbed the journal and shoved it under his pillow. He ran a hand through his hair and wiped his now sweaty hands on his pajama bottoms. “Come in.” He tried to look as casual as possible, one hand on his hip and the other just hanging there like it was trying to find something to cling to. Sam raised his eyebrow at him and then looked around the room like he was expecting to find some kind of contraband. 

 

“What’s up with you?”

 

Dean smiled and crossed his arms, somehow looking even more awkward. “What? Nothing. Just listening to some music.” Some music that wasn’t on. Sam crossed his arms. “I mean I was, but the album ended.” This was ridiculous, Dean sighed and sat down on the end of his bed. “What do you want, Sam?”

 

Sam shook his head and walked over to the desk, leaning against it. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

 

He shrugged. “I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“Our second, or I guess it’s technically our third, therapy thing is tomorrow and I just-”

 

“Thought I’d be freaked out?”

 

Sam let out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I guess so.”

 

Dean stood up and walked over to Sam. “I’m fine, Sam.” And that was mostly true. In fact the journal had become such an overwhelming distraction that his nerves over continuing group therapy with Sam had been somewhat abated. He leaned against the other side of the desk and crossed his arms. “Look, I’ve been going to therapy for almost a year now.” He let out a laugh, there it was again. “And I think I can handle this.”

 

Sam looked down at his hands. “Yeah. You’re right.”

 

Dean looked at him for a second and saw what appeared to be nerves. “Sam, are you nervous?”

 

“What? No. Of course not.” Sam tried to stand a little taller and look more confident, but his eyes betrayed him. Dean cocked his eyebrow and Sam caved. “Yeah, okay, fine. I guess I am.” Dean couldn’t help but smile at that. “You don’t have to look so damn happy about it.”

 

“I’m sorry, it’s just...I mean I just didn’t think you’d have a problem with this sort of thing.” Sam shook his head and looked away. “Oh come on, you’re the one who’s always trying to get me to open up.”

 

Sam sighed. “I just...I worry that I’m not...last week when I jumped down your throat...I know that that hurt you.” He looked at Dean. “And I didn’t mean to do that. I just worry that I’m not...that I’m not helping you.”

 

“Sammy, you are helping me. You always do.”

 

“Then why haven’t...why haven’t you showed me any of your poems?”

 

Sam hadn’t brought up the poems much since their last session and while Dean was relieved, he had to admit that there was a part of him that felt a little bit hurt by that. “Sam, that has nothing to do with you, okay. I just...I’m embarrassed.”

 

“Embarrassed?”

 

“Yeah, I mean I’m supposed to be about killing evil sons-of-bitches, not writing flowery poetry.”

 

Sam smirked. “It’s flowery?” 

 

Dean gave him a light punch in the arm. “Shut-up. You know what I mean.”

 

“So, you think that because you wrote poetry that makes you less of a badass? That’s bullshit, Dean. Lots of baddasses write poetry and novels and plays.”

 

“Yeah, but they’re talented.”

 

“You need to stop doing that.” 

 

“Sammy, I’m not some gifted artist. I’m just a hunter that happened to write a couple of poems a lifetime ago.”

 

“You’re much more than just a hunter, Dean.”

 

They stood in silence for a couple of seconds. Dean swallowed and looked at Sam. “I’m not ready yet. But someday- ”

 

“Okay.” Sam pointed at him. “This doesn’t mean I won’t stop asking.” 

 

“Oh joy.” But Dean had to admit he was looking forward to it.

 

“Okay, well I’ll let you get back to your music or whatever.” 

 

“Shut-up.”

 

“Goodnight jerk.”

 

“Goodnight bitch.” Sam gave Dean a quick smile before leaving. 

 

He stood near his desk for a few more minutes, staring at his pillow. He could almost see the journal underneath it. It was like a beacon.  _ More than a hunter. More than a hunter. _ Dean let the words replay in his head as he walked toward the bed. He took a deep breath and took the journal out and continued writing.

 

_ -have my second, or third, group therapy session with Sam. Weirdest part is that I’m really not that nervous about it. Okay, fine, I am, but at least this damn thing has distracted me. I have no clue what we’re gonna talk about. What wounds we’re going to try and open up. I’m sure Laura will wonder why I haven’t shown Sam my poetry. Truth is I’m not only embarrassed, I’m scared. Terrified really. There are things I wrote in there that...well, it’s not flowery at all. Also, I haven’t really even looked at those things since I left that school. Not even sure they would make sense or even be readable. Hell, they may have been destroyed somewhere along the way.  _

 

Dean looked up from the journal. That wasn’t really true. Dean always knew where those poems were, no matter where they landed the poems were with him. Sometimes he’d hide them in his boxers or his toiletries. But usually he kep them tucked inside a sleeve of one of his records. Dean looked up and stared at the row of records in front him. He knew which one it was in this week. He had been moving it to different albums since they moved in here. This time he had chosen  _ The White Album _ , which may not have been the best choice.  _ The Beatles _ always made him think of his mom. He set the journal aside and walked over to the records, gently removing the album. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and pulled out the envelope. Inside were five neatly folded pages. Just five that he kept with him. He quickly shoved the paper back inside the envelope and looked for a new album to put them in. He settled on a  _ Metallica’s...And Justice For All  _ album. Sam would never ask to listen to that. 

 

Dean took a deep breath and went back to the journal. 

 

_ Um...I guess I was talking about the poems and Sam and therapy and...well, everything. Sam said I was more than a hunter. I’ve never even entertained that thought. All I’ve ever known was to be a hunter. How could I ever be more than that? How could I really be more than just a good little soldier? I’ve always had one specific job: look after Sammy. But lord knows he doesn’t really need that anymore. Not like that would ever stop me. But really, what am I if I’m not Sam’s protector or just another Winchester hunter? What am I if I don’t try and save the world? What am I then?  _

 

Dean looked up from the journal, pen in hand. He glanced over toward the albums, his eyes instantly falling on the  _ Metallica  _ album.

 

_ Could I ever be anything else? Would my father ever want me to be more? I know my mom would’ve. Is she with my dad right now asking him how he could let his sons fall into this life? Or has she forgiven him? Have I? Too much heavy there. Need to put a pin in that. Kind of like I do with every little thing.  _

 

_ I keep talking with Donna. Lately I’ve been chatting with her more than Sam or Cas. Not that Sam, Cas and I have ever really had lengthy chats. It’s weird, I’ve been opening up to someone and telling them who I am and they haven’t run away yet. But I’m sure I’ll find someway to screw that up. I always do.  _

 

Dean shut the journal and set it aside. He stared up at the ceiling, his arm resting on his forehead.  

 

* * *

 

Second, scratch that, third therapy session. He could do this. Dean was tapping his fingers on his leg, waiting for Sam to return from the restroom. He was sitting outside Laura’s office, praying that this would go smoothly. Sam returned and glanced at Dean’s hand. Dean instantly stopped tapping his fingers. He really needed to get better at hiding his nerves again. “She’s still in with a client.”

 

Sam glanced up at the clock. “We’re early.” Sam took a seat in a small chair across from Dean, his size making the chair appear almost dwarf like. Dean held back a laugh. Sam picked up one of the many  _ Better Home and Garden _ magazines, one Dean had probably read five times, and absently flipped through it. 

 

Five more minutes passed and with each passing second Dean willed his fingers to remain still. After another thirty seconds, Laura’s office door opened and that same crestfallen girl that Dean had run into that one day walked out. She caught sight of Dean and a blush crept up her cheek as she quickly turned away, ignoring Laura’s goodbye.

“Dean. Sam.” Dean smiled and stood up, heading toward her office. She put up a hand. “I’ll be ready for you in just a minute.” She smiled and walked back into her office, shutting the door behind her. 

 

Dean stared at her closed door for a moment before shaking his head and turning back around. “Guess she wasn’t ready.” Sam just shrugged and went back to the magazine. Who knew Sam was so interested in home decor. Dean didn’t move. 

 

A few minutes later the office door opened and Laura gestured for Dean to enter. “Sam, I just want to check in with Dean briefly.” 

 

“Sure.” Sam almost looked relieved, like he was just dying to finish whatever article he was reading. 

 

Dean followed Laura into her office and took his usual seat on the couch, making sure to leave room for his brother. “Can I get you anything to drink?” Dean shook his head and she sat down, her notebook at the ready. 

 

“Why do you write in those notebooks?”

 

“You know why, Dean. I like to keep notes.”

 

“No. I mean why always the school notebooks. Why not something more professional?”

 

“More professional?”

 

“Yeah, like leatherbound or something.”

 

She actually let out a chuckle and Dean could’ve sworn he saw her roll her eyes. “So, my choice of notebooks bothers you?”

 

“I don’t know. Sorry.”

 

She smiled, glanced down at her college ruled notebook, and then looked back up at him. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should get something leather bound. Something that you see the therapist's use in movies or television shows.”   
  


“I didn’t mean to-”

 

“It’s okay, Dean.” She crossed her legs. “Have you been writing in your journal?”

 

“Just one more entry. Well, first I copied that first thing I wrote, before I got the journal.”

 

“How has that felt?”

 

“You know Sam is waiting out there and-”

 

“Okay. We won’t keep him waiting too much longer. How have you been, Dean?”

 

“Fine.” Dean glanced at her office door. 

 

“Are you worried about Sam?”

 

He shook his head and looked back at her. “What? No. I just...I mean it’s his time too.”

 

“I know, but you’re my client.”

 

“Well, Sam kind of is too.”

 

“Yes, but not in the same way. You’re my client first and these are your therapy sessions. The group therapy is part of  _ your _ therapy plan. It’s important that I check in with you first.”

 

Dean shifted in his seat, feeling both proud and uncomfortable at being first. It was a feeling he tried to avoid and luckily hadn’t had to deal with too much. “Well, I’m fine, just...I’d like to just start our group therapy thing.”

 

“Okay. If you’re sure.” Dean nodded. Laura got up and brought Sam in. Sam took a seat next to Dean and gave him a quick smile. “Can I get you anything to drink Sam?”

 

“Water would be great.” Dean glanced at him and there it was again; Sam was nervous. Laura handed him the glass of water. “Thank you.” Sam took a huge drink.

 

“You’re welcome.” Laura opened her notebook back up. “How have you been, Sam?”

 

Sam nodded a little too vigorously. “Good. Busy. But good.”

 

“How are you feeling about coming back here?”

 

“Fine.”

 

She looked at him for a moment and Dean knew that look, she could tell he was lying. “Therapy can be a difficult thing to do, especially group therapy. It’s normal to be a little nervous.”

 

Sam licked his lips, glanced at Dean and then looked back at Laura. “I just want to be able to do what’s best for Dean.”

 

“Are you worried you’re not?”

 

“I just don’t know how much I’m helping.”

 

“Sam, I told you that you’re doing fine.”

 

“I know you did, but I still...I just get the feeling lately that…” Sam looked down at his hands. “I feel like you’re trying to get away from me or something.”

 

“What?”

 

“I mean you’ve been spending a lot of time in your room lately or you have your head in one of those books you bought and I just...I feel like you don’t want to be near me.”

 

“Sammy, that’s...I just have some things I’m trying to figure out and I just need space.”

 

“I know that I hurt you when I acted like I didn’t trust you.” Sam turned to face him. “And it wasn’t that I didn’t trust you. I was just...I’m not used to you...I was just worried.” 

 

Dean furrowed his brow. “What is it, Sam? What aren’t you used to?”

 

“It’s nothing, okay. I’m just glad you’re not mad at me or something.”

 

“Sam.”

 

Sam shrugged. “It's nothing, okay.”

 

“I thought we were going to try and be honest.”

 

“Well, we both know that’s not something that comes easy to either of us.” Way to try and guilt a subject change. 

 

“True. But I think we’re getting better.” Dean needed to know. “Please, tell me what it is that you aren’t used to.”

 

Sam sighed. “Okay, fine. I’m not used to you handling things.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

“If you had come home drunk or had even brought someone home with you I would’ve been like same old same old. Dean dealing in his own way. But now...it’s like you’re trying to deal with things and I just...I’m not used to it.”

 

Dean swallowed. “You expect me to screw up.”

 

“That’s not what I meant.”

 

“But that’s what you said.”

 

“Look, you’re not one for emotions.”

 

“That’s not true.”

 

Sam scoffed. “Oh really? I thought you were just some brave hunter who didn’t have time for emotions?”

 

Great. Throw that in my face. “Okay. So I don’t always express my emotions, but it doesn’t mean I don’t have any.”

 

“That’s not what I meant.” Sam looked away and shook his head.

 

“Sam, do you think Dean is without emotion?”

 

“No.”

 

“But you told Dean that he wasn’t one for emotions.”

 

“I just meant that he shuts those off.”

 

“Well, in our job you have to.”

 

“It’s not just in our job, Dean.”

 

“You think I’m a robot?”

 

“I didn’t-”

 

“You think I just turn off all emotions twenty-four seven?”

 

“Dean-”

 

“Because yes, sometimes I have to hide them away, but they’re always there. Always scratching away at the surface begging to come out. And if I did let them out well...Sam if I really let those walls down all the time it could...it might destroy me.” 

 

Sam was just staring at him, a mix of shock, pain and worry on his face. “Dean, I...I know you feel. I shouldn’t have said what I did.” He turned to Laura. “I didn’t mean to say he doesn’t feel. I know he does.”

 

“You just feel he shuts it off from you.”

 

“Me. Everyone.”

 

“Dean, do you feel you shut your emotions off from everyone?”

 

“I have to sometimes. It’s my job. I can’t fall apart whenever I want to. And when I have well...I’ve failed.”

 

“Dean, it’s not your job to be my father anymore or my protector.”

 

“You don’t understand, okay. Being your protector is just in my DNA. It’s as much a part of me as my eyes.”

 

“I know, but you don’t always have to do it. I can maybe protect you.”

 

“You did, Sam. After Charlie died and...and before that when I was...you helped to pull me back. You saved me.”

 

“Well, it was about time someone did.”

 

They sat in silence for a moment. “Well, I want you and Cas to know that you don’t have to save me anymore.”

 

“I know.”

 

“And you also need to know that I’m not always going to fail.”

 

“I know that, Dean. I do.”

 

“Do you wanna know what I’ve been doing lately?” Sam nodded and Dean ignored the voice inside him telling him to just leave it. “I um...I’ve been talking to Donna.” And journaling, but he kept that part a secret at least.

 

Sam’s eyes got big. “Donna!? Are you two-”

 

“No! God, not. We’re just...we’re friends.” 

 

“Well, you two are kind of alike.”

 

Laura looked between them and then settled on Sam. “Sam, do you have anyone you can talk to outside of Dean and Cas?” 

 

“You mean like a friend?” She nodded. “Um...well, not really. I haven’t really had time for that.”

 

“How about when you were growing up? Did you have many friends?”

 

“Not really. We moved around too much to make any close friends. I had the occasional classmate, but not really. At least not until college.”

 

“You had a lot of friends in college?”

 

“I wouldn’t necessarily say a lot, but I had a close circle of friends. I met a lot of them through...through Jessica.” Sam’s eyes got cloudy and Dean could tell he was fighting back tears. Sam hadn’t talked about her in years. “She was...she was my college girlfriend and we were...she had a lot of friends. I was able to fit in pretty easily. Easiest it’s ever been.”

 

“Why do you think that was?”

 

Sam swallowed, glanced at Dean and then quickly looked away. “I was away from my family. From my father and the life that we led. I was...I was free.” Dean tried to tamper down the hurt that four letter word caused him, but he could feel the ache in his chest. Sam looked at Dean. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

 

Dean held up his hand. “It’s fine, Sam.”

 

“It wasn’t you, okay.”

 

“We’ve talked about that already. Really, it’s fine.” Dean gave him a quick smile and then looked away.

 

“After you left college, Sam, did you make any other friends?”

 

Sam shrugged. “We’ve had other hunters around before and such, but we don’t have much luck in that department.”

 

“You mean losing people?”

 

“Yeah. But we have Cas. Cas has been the biggest constant.”

 

“And you can talk to him?”

 

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, I mean he’s different, but I’m different too.” Sam had a soft smile on his face and Dean was suddenly aware that Cas and Sam had some whole other friendship outside of him. That they didn’t just sit around and worry about him like he had sometimes thought. Of course they did. It would be silly to think they didn’t, but he had always sort of thought of Cas as his friend. Cas had said they shared a more profound bond or whatever.

 

Dean must have been staring or spacing out, because Laura had a look of concern on her face. “Dean, are you okay?”

 

“Hm? Yeah, I just...I’m glad that Sam and Cas can talk to each other.”

 

“Dean have you showed Sam any of your poetry?” Fuck. He’d really hoped they wouldn’t have to talk about this.

 

“Not yet.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I...I’m just nervous. Sam and I already talked about this.” That should stop her. 

 

“Are you going to show them to him?” Nope. No such luck.

 

“I don’t...maybe.”

 

Sam looked at him. “So you might never show me?”

 

“I don’t know Sam. They’re just some stupid poems I wrote ages ago. Why do you even want to read them?”

 

“Because...because I want to know that...I want to know that you’re more than this. More than our job.”

 

“I thought you already thought that.”

 

“I do, but...but I’ve never really seen that. I never knew my brother the writer. I just want to know that part of you.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yes, really.”

 

“How does that make you feel, Dean?”

 

“Nervous. I haven’t shown anyone those except for the people in that class and...they aren’t pretty. I mean the words aren’t...it’s a mess. I don’t know.”

 

“I hope that someday you let me read them. I promise I won’t judge you for anything you write in them.”

 

“Dean, have you read your poems?”

 

“I wrote them.”

 

“Yes, but have you read them since then?”

 

“No.”

 

“Maybe you should do that. See what you wrote and then maybe you’d feel better about showing them to Sam.”

 

“Maybe.” Dean could see the smile on Sam’s face and he genuinely seemed hopeful about the prospect of being able to read the poems, but Dean felt the dread and nerves. What if he read them and realized that they were even worse than he could imagine? What if they were cruel or sloppy? What if they were complete crap? What if he’d been carrying around garbage all this time?

 

* * *

 

They got back to the bunker a few hours later. They had stopped in town to have a quick bite to eat and even shot a game of pool, no hustling involved. When they got back to the bunker Cas greeted them and asked how their session had gone. Sam said great and that they had another one set-up. The three of them talked for a bit, checking if there were any cases or Angel happenings that needed to be dealt with. It appeared that all was quiet and Dean excused himself to his room. Sam gave him a warm smile and they both wished him a goodnight. 

 

Dean locked the bedroom door, something he hadn’t really done much since moving in here. He steadied himself and then made his way to his records. He touched the  _ Metallica _ album, but didn’t remove it right away. He just stared at the spine of the album, reading and re-reading the title, studying each letter. He swallowed and pulled the album out. He turned it over in his hands, reading the back. Scanning the names of every song and even humming a few lines from each. He sat back on his bed and slowly pulled out the letter that was tucked in just above the album’s sleeve.

Dean set the album aside and placed the envelope in his lap. He licked his lips and took a shaking hand and removed the folded up sheets of paper. “Here goes nothing.” He unfolded the paper and began to read. 

 

_ The Fire _

_ By _

_ Dean Winchester _

 

Dean swallowed. God, he didn’t know if he could do this. “Come on. Stop acting like a child and read the damn thing.” He nodded and started reading.

 

_ The flames had taken everything apart, _

_ Nowhere to start, _

_ Nowhere to end, _

_ Nothing else remained, _

_ Just the running and screaming, _

_ The smell of smoke and sounds of sirens, _

_ Every time I close my eyes, _

_ They revolve inside, _

_ Like some echo of the time I was reborn, _

_ But I never asked to be, _

_ Never wanted to be anything but me. _

 

_ I try to remember the boy from the old photos, _

_ The boy smiling up at his mother, _

_ The boy who had hope and a future, _

_ Toys and little miniature racing tracks, _

_ Listening to Hey Jude being sung as a lullaby, _

_ That child burnt in that fire, _

_ Lost with the mother, _

_ Tethered to his father, _

_ A hunter, _

_ A soldier, _

_ A brother. _

 

_ My father sits in his chair with a bottle of whiskey and a shotgun, _

_ Keeping a drunken vigil over the scraps of the life he left behind, _

_ Does he know I hear him cry out in the night, _

_ Waking with a fright, _

_ I hear him scream her name, _

_ Sometimes other names I don’t recognize, _

_ Maybe some other lives he couldn’t save, _

_ Does he know I know that he hides in the bathroom to cry, _

_ That he prays to Mary every night till his eyes are to dry to even cry. _

 

_ My father is stuck in that nursery, _

_ Stuck watching my mother burn, _

_ And I’m out here with my hands reaching out, _

_ Hoping for some scraps in return, _

_ Hoping that we can all be reborn. _

 

Dean set the poem aside, too afraid to read the others. He’d forgotten. Forgotten who he’d written about. He’d forgotten who he was. What he wanted. What he saw. He’d forgotten that he’d wanted more than what he had been given. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was kind of a departure from the friend theme, but planting some seeds. I hope everyone enjoyed the poem or at least enjoyed the way it was written. Lol. Thank you for reading and for continuing to support this work. Never be afraid to pursue the dreams you really want. <3


	4. A New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean deals with the holidays and a couple weeks without therapy.

The holidays. Dean was never quite sure how to handle them. There was that time before Hell when he had wanted to have one last Christmas, but since then they had just been days that were marked by the possibility of a football game or perhaps watching the ball drop. This year it started off with Laura calling Dean to let him know she had to go out of town for a couple of weeks due to some family emergency that she wouldn’t expand upon. Dean could hear how shaky her voice was, like she was trying to hold back the tears. Dean stopped himself from asking if there was anything he could do to help and instead they rescheduled for January 9th. She let Dean know that he could call one of her colleague if anything came up. He said okay, but knew he would never make that call. There was no way he was going to open up to another shrink. Besides, he’d gone a couple weeks without seeing her before, he could handle three. But there was this undercurrent of nervousness that permeated every day between December 19th and January 9th that scared the hell out of him. He tried to shake it off and remind himself that at least he’s not dealing with some tragedy. At least not now. So, he toughed it out and tried to make it through another year of holidays.

 

To Dean’s surprise, on December 23rd Sam and Cas came home carrying one of the biggest Christmas trees he had ever seen. They had bags of decorations, lights and even a beer can wreath. Cas did object to the angel on top of the tree, insisting that Christmas wasn’t even Jesus’ real birthday. Sam had rolled his eyes until Dean reminded him that he was one of the first one’s to tell him that. They made a roast and Dean picked up a pumpkin and pecan pie in town. They spent the day watching football, while trying to teach Cas about the game. For Christmas it wasn’t half bad. No presents. No eggnog or at least no eggnog with alcohol in it. But it was good. 

 

The days after Christmas were fairly quiet. They took on a nearby salt & burn and were home in time for New Year’s Eve. It would be the first one without Dean drinking at least something to toast the New Year. Cas bought some sparkling cider and Dean was touched by the gestured. They watched the ball drop and drank a little bit of the cider, not a single one of them able to stand the stuff. Life was somewhat normal and Dean realized that it had been like that for awhile now. Everything seemed calmer somehow and as nice as it was he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe that was something he needed to talk to Laura about.  _ Great, now I’m actually taking notes on what to talk to her about. _ It was January 2nd. One week till January 9th. He could do this. 

 

One thing Dean had managed to do successfully was ignore his journal. It was stored in his bedside table, a pen hooked inside and every night he’d open that drawer and check to see if it was still there. But he didn’t take it out. Didn’t click the pen open. Kind of like his poems. He had tried to read the others, but it had gotten too...well, without Laura around he wasn’t sure he should. And there it was again. He was starting to rely on her way too much. 

 

He hadn’t talked to Donna since a couple days before Christmas. She had mentioned some small family gathering and that she would call him when she got back. Still no call. But that was okay, wasn’t it? He couldn’t start relying on her too. He had actually gotten Donna a present. A present that still sat wrapped on his desk drawer. 

 

January 9th. Just a week away. He could call Donna. Pick up the phone and just check in on her. He didn’t want to seem needy though. Was this what friends did? Wait around for the other to call? He really had no idea how to just have a friend without some catastrophe looming. Without some big case to solve. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell and stared at the home screen. “Stupid.” He shook his head and threw the phone on his bed. Shower. He could use a shower. 

 

Dean let the water run over his body, noticing that it wasn’t aching as much as it usually would. Truth was he hadn’t been thrown around by any supernatural being in a while. It was nice, but also made him nervous. He wondered if there would ever come a day when he could just appreciate little victories without looking over his shoulder. He stayed under the water till it turned nearly cold and made his way back to his room. He always loved the way his body felt after a shower. Especially after a shower in the bunker. The water pressure still amazed him. Showers could be a luxury sometimes or at least showers where you got really clean. Showers where you actually smelled like soap and not the faint scent of dirt and blood. Sometimes that scent would creep up on him, even when there was not a single drop of blood or dirt in site. It was a smell that stayed in your nose no matter how many years you had been hunting. He used to be so embarrassed when he would have to go meet people knowing that the blood and dirt may not have been completely washed free. Knowing that the small bottles of shampoo and soap didn’t always wash everything clean, especially in rinky dinky showers and when you couldn’t always make it to a laundromat. Dean ran a hand through his still damp hair and held his fingers up to his nose. He inhaled and all he could smell was shampoo. No blood. No dirt. No death. Just shampoo. He smiled and walked back to his room. 

 

He glanced at his bed, his cell phone staring back at him. He really should just call her. Check in and make sure nothing got her. He picked up the phone and scrolled through his contacts. His thumb hovered over Donna’s name for a second before he pressed call. He held the phone up to his ear and couldn’t help but grin when he heard her happy voice greeting him. 

 

* * *

 

Donna had insisted that she fly into Wichita instead of Dean driving to her. She said she wanted to pretend she was on some lavish vacation and that she had a thing for flying. Well, that was one thing they didn’t have in common. Dean agreed after saying that he would make the three hour drive to pick her up at the airport and dinner would be on him. Donna made plans to fly out on January 8th, one day before his next session. He looked up nearby steakhouses and found one called  _ Hangar One  _ that had an aviation theme. So the steaks were a little out of his price range, but they weren’t too bad. Problem was even not too bad was out of his price range at this point. So, Dean decided to hustle a few games of pool the night before. Of course that meant walking into a bar. He told Sam and Cas that he was going into town to catch a movie and he felt guilty every second he was gone. He supposed he could’ve told them. Maybe asked them to come along, but he was worried they would refuse or give him some kind of lecture. So, he steeled himself for the walk into the bar.

 

The smell of stale peanuts and even staler beer hit him like a tidal wave when he walked in. That smell used to be of some comfort to him. Like an old familiar record that always played the right song. He felt his hands shaking and his heartbeat quickening and he tried to calm himself. The jukebox was playing some crappy  _ Poison _ song and there were two young guys singing out of tune next to it. Both of them had pool cues in hand and they might as well have been wearing a giant neon “ripe for the picking” sign. 

 

Dean watched them for a moment longer and then sauntered up to the bar. He signaled the bartender and froze when he was asked what he’d like to drink. His first instinct was beer, didn’t want anything too strong yet when you were hustling. But he stopped himself and ordered an iced tea, but in a shot glass. The bartender gave him an “are you shitting me?” look and Dean asked him again. He laughed and went to get his drink. Yeah, maybe it could pass for whiskey. His hands were still shaking so he did something he hadn’t done in awhile; popped an anxiety pill in his mouth and swallowed. He had to be as calm as possible for this to work.

 

Five iced tea shots later and Dean decided it was time to make his move. The two suckers were still rocking out to bad hair bands when Dean stumbled off the bar stool and staggered over to the boys. He gave them his best drunk smile and said he wanted to play. They gave each other a look like they figured they could take this drunk asshole easily. They smiled and it was on. After two losses and three more iced tea shots, Dean made his move. The suckers had no idea what hit them. They threatened him, like they all do, but in the end he left without a scratch and one hundred dollars richer.

 

* * *

 

One thing Dean didn’t count on when he agreed to pick up Donna from the airport was the nerves that would accompany him. He wasn’t even flying dammit, but there they were. Every time he heard a plane up above he felt like his heart was going to leap out of his chest. He had left his medication at home, figuring there was no way he would need it. So, he tried to steady his hands on the steering wheel and remind himself that he wasn’t about to get on one of those flying death machines. 

 

His nerves flew out the window when he saw Donna bounding toward his car, a smile as bright as the sun. He got out and opened the passenger side door and she gave him a nearly crushing hug. She pulled back, looked at him and shook her head. “You need to get out of here don’t you?”

 

“Yeah, as quick as possible.” She laughed and climbed into the passenger seat, Dean tossed her carry on in the backseat. 

 

Of course Dean had also managed to screw himself on the restaurant location. It happened to boast that it had views of the airport. Great. Donna noticed how nervous he was when they were seated and she placed a reassuring hand on his wrist. “We can go somewhere else, Dean.”

 

Dean shook his head and took a long drink of water. “No. I’m fine or I’ll be fine.” Just then a plane flew overhead and Dean jumped slightly, a little bit of water spilling on the table. Donna laughed and picked up a napkin to dry off the table. She kept laughing and shaking her head. “What?”

 

“Nothing. Just, Dean Winchester afraid of a little thing like a plane.”

 

“Hey, they’re not little things. They are death traps and sometimes they can have possessed pilots or stewardesses.”

 

“Really?”

 

“You have no idea.” 

 

Donna lifted up her glass of water and held it out. “Happy New Year, Dean.”

 

He smiled and clinked his water glass to hers. “Happy New Year.”

 

They fell into comfortable conversation. She told him all about some new officer that was getting on her last nerve. Dean cut a piece of his sirloin steak and grinned at her. “Sounds like someone has a bit of a crush.” He popped the piece of meat into his mouth and Donna scoffed. 

 

“No way.” Dean raised his eyebrow. “Dean, his name is Doug. Doug. I’m not falling for a Doug ever again.”

 

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe this Doug can make up for the other one.”

 

She glared at him, but Dean could see a slight blush on her cheeks. “You shut it.”

 

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. I give up.”

 

“Thank you. And how about you mister?” Donna took a drink of water.

 

“How about me what?”

 

“Any annoying hunters in your life?”

 

“You mean do I like anyone right now?” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t really do that.”

 

“Like people.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So, you just sleep with them.” 

 

He swallowed, feeling a wave of shame. “It’s...it’s easier.”

 

“For who?”

 

“Both of us.” He blinked a couple of times. “I know it-”

 

She held her hand up. “I’m not judging. Believe me I know how it goes, but you’re a great guy and I don’t want to see you sell yourself short.”

 

“Yeah, I’m a great guy who was a demon, went to Hell and is in therapy. Oh and I’m scared of planes. Hell of a catch.” Dean took another bite of steak. 

 

“Hey, you forgot that you have an encyclopedic knowledge of kick ass music, all things lore, can make any little story entertaining, funny as all get out and whip smart.”

 

Now it was Dean’s turn to blush. “Okay, okay. Can we cut this out before this turns into some cheesy ballad?”

 

“A cheesy ballad that you’d know all the lyrics to.” She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed. 

 

They finished their dinners and Dean insisted that they get desert. Carrot cake for Donna and a slice of cheesecake for Dean. While they waited for their deserts, Dean pulled out the Christmas present and Donna looked both shocked and a little upset. “Oh, Dean I didn’t-”

 

“Hey, you came all the way out here just to have dinner with me and you’ve...you’ve been there for me. It’s the least I can do.” 

 

She shook her head as she opened the present. She laughed when she saw what it was. “Dazed and Confused. Thank you.” She stood up and walked over to him and gave him a hug. 

 

She sat back down and their desserts arrived. They dug into them with abandon. 

 

They left the restaurant both extremely satisfied with their meals and Dean drove her to the hotel she had booked in one of the fancier hotels in town. Once again saying she wanted to pretend she was on some lavish vacation. “Dean, if you want you can stay and drive back in the morning.” 

 

He cocked his eyebrow. “Are you making a pass at me sheriff?”

 

“You wish.” He laughed. “It’s just I know it’s a long drive back.”

 

“Hey, I do a lot of late night driving. Besides I...I have a therapy appointment tomorrow.”

 

She smiled at him. “I’m proud of you Dean Winchester.”

 

“Okay, going into that ballad territory again.”

 

She playfully punched him in the arm. “I’m serious.”

 

“I know. Thanks.” Dean took a deep breath and reached into his pocket and felt the envelope was there. He had taken it with him without even thinking about it. “I...I was wondering if you would…” He pulled it out and held it against the steering wheel. “I have these...um...these poems I wrote in high school and…” He looked at her. “And I was wondering if...if you’d read them and just tell me if I can...I’m supposed to show them to Sam or something and I just thought that if you read them first and you could tell me, you know, if you think they’re good.” Her mouth was slightly open and he was pretty sure she hadn’t blinked once. She looked down at the envelope and then back up at him, still not saying anything. “Forget it, I’m sorry-”

 

She grabbed the envelope from him. “I’d love to.”

 

“You can tell me if they suck or…”

 

She leaned across the seat and gave him the third hug of the night. He hugged her back tighter than he had before. “Thank you for trusting me with these.” They pulled apart and she had the warmest smile on her face.

 

“Okay, now we really are going to go in that ballad route or worse, Lifetime movie route.” She laughed. Dean got out of the car, grabbed her carry-on and opened up the passenger door. “Thanks for flying out here to see me.”

 

“Thanks for the dinner.” She held the envelope up to her chest. “And thank you again for trusting me.”

 

“You’re welcome.” He smiled at her and watched as she walked inside, her bag in one hand and his poems in the other. It was the first time they would be out of his reach since he left that school. He took a deep breath and gave himself a reassuring nod and started the drive back home. 

 

* * *

 

He had made it three weeks. Three weeks and here he was sitting on that all too familiar couch, with the all too familiar view from outside the window that was now covered in frost. He was happy to be here and ain’t that a son of a bitch. “How were your holidays, Dean?”

 

He shook his head, bringing his full attention back to the room. “Fine.”

 

“Did you do anything special?”

 

“Well, we got a Christmas tree which is something new, but no. We don’t really...Christmas and New Year’s just kind of go by.”

 

“Did you ever celebrate as kids?”

 

Dean laughed. “Yeah, beer can wreaths and the whole nine yards.” He shrugged. “It actually wasn’t that bad. It was what it was.”

 

“The holidays can be hard for a lot of people.” He shrugged. “Have you been doing anymore journaling?” 

 

“Not really.”

 

She knitted her brow. “Why do you think that is?”

 

“Too busy with the holidays.” She cocked her head. “I just...I don’t really know what to write.”

 

“Well, that can happen. But just remember that there are no rules to what you write. A journal is for you.”

 

“My dad’s wasn’t.”

 

“You said your journal was different than your dad’s, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So, then that means it can be just for you. How about your poems?”

 

“I haven’t shown them to Sam yet.”

 

“Did you try and read them?”

 

“Yeah, actually I did.”

 

“And how did that feel?”

 

“Weird.”

 

“Weird how?”

 

“I knew they’d be...I knew what they were about, but I had kind of forgotten some of it.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“I don’t know. Like how lonely I was or how lonely my dad was. I had forgotten that I didn’t always like my life.”   
  


She looked at him with a confused look on her face. “You thought you liked your life?”

 

“Yeah, of course.” She gave him that all knowing look again. “Okay, so it wasn’t perfect, but we were together. Sam, my dad and I.”

 

“Dean, not liking the way you grew up doesn’t mean you don’t like your dad.”

 

“I know that. I just...my dad lost the love of his life in the worst way and...he did the best he could.”

 

“I didn’t say he didn’t. I’m just saying that you can mourn your lost childhood. You can mourn not having any close friends growing up. Not having a Christmas tree or presents to open. You can mourn that you lost your family.”

 

“I didn’t lose my family.”

 

“Yes, you did. You lost the family you had before your mom died.”

 

“Why do we always have to talk about my childhood?”

 

“Because it was a big part of who you are.” 

 

Dean looked away. Why was he happy to be here again? “Well, I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay.”

 

“Okay, but Dean you need to deal with it eventually.”

 

“Haven’t I already dealt with it enough?”

 

“For now, but someday you’re going to have to deal with your relationship with your-”

 

Dean looked at her. “I’m the client, right?” 

 

“Right, but-”

 

“Then as your client I say I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

 

She looked at him like she was trying to weigh out the pros and cons of dropping it. Finally, She gave in. “Fine. What would you like to talk about?”

 

He thought for a moment, trying to decide on a topic with the least danger of tripping over a minefield. “I went to a bar the other night and I didn’t drink.” Maybe not the best one, but at least it had a positive start 

 

She raised her eyebrows and then smiled. “That’s wonderful, Dean. Were you with someone?”

 

“Nope. I was there to-” Here comes a minefield. “I was playing pool.”

 

“Do you mean hustling pool?”

 

“Yes, but there was a good reason.”

 

“Dean, I’ve told you before that I’m not judging.” He looked down. “Do you think there’s something wrong with it?”

 

“Look, the people I hustle sort of set themselves up for it.”

 

“How’s that?”

 

“They’re cocky okay and so dang sure that they’re better than everyone else.”

 

“So you knock them down a peg?”

 

“And make money in the process.” He tried to give her his most self-assured smile, but he could feel the falseness in it. “Look, I’ve done a lot of good things too.”

 

“I know.”

 

“And I think that far outweighs a few pool games.”

 

“Why do you feel the need to justify it with me?”

 

“I just know that you’re probably looking down at me for it.”

 

“I told you I’m not judging.”

 

“Yeah, you say that, but I know your type.”

 

“My type?”

 

“Yeah, you’re well educated and probably came from money or something. Probably were a cheerleader or voted most likely to succeed.”

 

“So, you think I’m like the people you hustle? That I look down on you?”

 

“I didn’t...I know you don’t. I mean I don’t think you do. I know that...you’re not like them, but you’re not like me.”

 

“I was raised by a single mother who held down two low paying jobs just to put a roof over our heads and to send us to a good college. I was pretty shy in high school, but I was on the volleyball team.” Dean looked down. “I’m not completely like you, Dean, but that doesn’t mean I’m better than you.”

 

“I’m sorry that I assumed that-”

 

She held up her hand. “It’s okay. Just know that I am not looking down on you.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“So, you said that you had a good reason?”

 

“What?” He thought for a moment. “Oh, right, the pool game. I was taking Donna to a nice dinner and I didn’t really have the money.”

 

“You’re right. That is a good reason.” She smiled. “And how was the dinner?”

 

“It was really good.” He rubbed his neck. “I um...I gave her my poems to read.”

 

A brief look of shock crossed her face, but she quickly covered it up. “I’m proud of you, Dean.” He smiled. “How did that feel?”

 

“Terrifying. Easy. Weird.” He laughed. 

 

“It took a lot of courage to do that. You must really trust her.”

 

“Yeah. It’s weird, but it’s like she’s the first real friend I’ve had that I could totally open up to. And she doesn’t...she doesn’t judge me.”

 

“I’m glad you have that, Dean.”

 

“Yeah, me too.” He smiled and remembered again why he was so happy to come here. 

 

“Has she said anything about them yet?”

 

Dean swallowed around a sudden lump in his throat. “No, but I just gave them to her.”

 

“I didn’t mean to make you nervous.”

 

“You didn’t.”

 

She looked like she wanted to press him on that, but she decided not to. Dean suspected she had decided she would just pick her battles with him at this point. He felt a mixture of relief and disappointment at that. “Why did you decide to give Donna the poems instead of Sam?”

 

“Because I wanted to know...I wanted to make sure she thought I could show them to Sam. I wanted her to tell me if they were safe.”

 

“Safe?”

 

“I didn’t really write about happy stuff and I don’t want to upset him.”

 

“And if Donna tells you that the poems will upset Sam?”

 

“Then I won’t show them to him.”

 

“Just like that.”

 

“Sam’s been through enough in his life. He doesn’t need to be reminded of how shitty it could be.”

 

“We’ve talked quite a bit in here about how you’ve helped raise Sam.”

 

“Yeah, and I also said I didn’t want to talk about my childhood.”

 

“I’m not talking about your childhood right now. I’m talking about your need to keep Sam safe, even if it means keeping something from him that he wants.”

 

“They’re my poems. I should have a right to show them to whoever I want.”

 

“Yes, you should. But choosing not to show them to Sam based entirely on whether or not Donna thinks they might be hard to read is not about them being your poems. That’s about protecting Sam.”

 

“That’s what big brothers do.”

 

“Yes. But you have to realize that Sam is an adult and he doesn’t need you to protect him from this. He could read the poems and be upset by them or he could read them and have no reaction. But that’s not something that you can control.”

 

“I can by not showing him.”

 

“And Sam might be hurt by that as well.”

 

“Well, as you said, he’s an adult.”

 

“Dean-”

 

“Can we just go back to talking about all the friends I’ve lost or something?”

 

“Dean, you can’t always change the subject when something tough comes up.”

 

“And you think me talking about a friend I’ve lost is easy?”

 

“No, but-”

 

Dean put his hands in the air. “Great, then let’s do that.”

 

It was time for her to pick a battle again and he could tell she did not want to cave this time. She sighed. “Fine. But I don’t want you to try and change the subject again, okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

She glanced at her notebook and then looked back up at him. “You’ve lost a lot of people in your life, Dean. Both friends and family.” Okay, was she just going to repeat everything this session.

 

“Yeah. So.”

 

She leaned forward, “Other than family, what was the hardest loss for you?”

 

Shit. She wasn’t pulling any punches this time. He brought this on himself of course. He swallowed and debated if he could get away with changing the subject just a little bit. Maybe turn it back to Sam or the shitty Thanksgiving dinners they had as kids. She was staring at him, probably trying to see if he was going to run. He wiped his now sweaty hands on his jeans and tried to steady himself. “Ch..Charlie.”

 

“Why was that one the hardest?”

 

He felt the heat rising in his neck. “Because it should’ve...it should’ve been me.”

 

“I thought you said that she was killed?”

 

“Yeah, but it was because she was doing something for...something that she...something that she shouldn’t have been doing.” He shut his eyes. “Something to help me.”

 

“Dean, was Charlie an adult?”

 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

 

“Did you ask her to do this thing to help you?”

 

“No. Sam did.”

 

“So, you didn’t ask her to help you?”

 

“No. But that doesn’t mean that-”

 

“Dean, you aren’t responsible for everybody.”

 

“But I am.”

 

“I know that you have this need to save everyone. But that’s not your job.”

 

Dean scoffed. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“When Charlie died did you know that she was working on something to help you?”

 

He crossed his arms. “I had just found out about...and then she died. Or she was murdered and...I got there to late.”

 

“Did you see her die?”

 

He could feel the tears threatening to fall and he blinked them back quickly. “No. But I...we, Sam and I, we...we got to the motel she was at just moments after she....we found her body.”

 

“I’m so sorry, Dean, That must have been devastating.”

 

Dean looked down at his hands. “I’ve seen blood and death, but seeing her in that-” Dean ran his hand down his face. “Seeing Charlie killed like that was different somehow. There was something so...so vicious about it. So cold.” He sniffed. “And it was my fault.”

 

“Dean, it wasn’t your fault.”

 

“But it was. She wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t for me.”

 

She leaned forward. “Dean, I want you to listen to me. It was not your fault.”

 

“But you don’t know. The things I’ve…” Dean started rocking back and forth. “She didn’t deserve that. She didn’t deserve the pain of knowing me.”

 

A sadness clouded Laura’s eyes and Dean had to look away. “Do you think that if Charlie was sitting right here, right now, that she would tell you that she regretted knowing you?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“She was trying to help you, right?” Dean nodded. “Why do you think she would’ve done that if she thought that knowing you was some painful thing to do?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“How long did you know Charlie?”

 

“Um...like three years.”

 

“Tell me about her.”

 

Dean shook his head, trying to clear his brain of the memory of her death. “She was a total computer geek, but in the awesomest way possible.” He smiled. “She was into larping. Live action roleplay.” Laura nodded. “When she really loved something, she went all out. Really gave it her all. We could both geek out together.” He glanced out the window, looking at the sun. He smiled and turned his attention back to Laura. “She was sunshine.”

 

“You said that she was someone you were very close to.”

 

“Yeah. I’m kind of...well, I have my geeky moments.” She smiled. “But that’s not why. She was like the little sister I never wanted, but always needed. She was like the bits of me that weren’t broken before...before my mom. Which was amazing because she suffered a terrible loss as well.” He could feel the tears on his cheeks, but he didn’t try to fight them this time. 

 

“You loved her.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And she loved you.”

 

Dean’s voice cracked. “Y-yes.” He wiped his cheek.

 

“Maybe you should write about her.”

 

“You mean like a letter?”

 

“Well, you can do that, but I meant maybe you should journal about her. Try and get out everything you ever wanted to say to her, but couldn’t.”

 

“I don’t know. I really lost it after she died. I mean really lost it.”

 

“How about this, you can start to write it and if it gets at all difficult you walk away. And I mean the difficult where you can’t breathe or you think you might have a panic attack.”

 

He swallowed. “Yeah. Okay. And I wouldn’t have to show it to you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Just for me?”

 

“Just for you.” Dean wiped away a stray tear and gave her a small smile. 

 

* * *

 

_January_ _9th_ _10th_ _12th_

 

_ Third time’s a charm, right? I thought about just not doing this. Maybe telling Laura at our next session that I did it. Bullshit my way through it. But there’s something in me preventing that. You deserve better. You deserved better. God, if I could go back I would’ve told you to just get rid of that ridiculous Book of the Damned the second you found it. I never should’ve let you search for it or anything for that matter. You should’ve never become a hunter.  _

 

_ You helped us that one time and that was all it took. Just one little favor and it was like you were already lost. I realize that happens to way too many people and I’m fed up with it. I told Sam once that I was poison and I believed that. Still do at times. I guess I was selfish and I wanted you in my life. It gets lonely, which may be hard to believe since I’m never really alone. Always have my brother with me. But I still feel so lost at times. Like there is no one I can really talk to or turn to. No one that doesn’t need something in return. And you were...you were light in the darkness. You were the innocence I had always been seeking. I know you’d probably laugh about the innocent part and try and remind me of that dark version of you that emerged from the Emerald City. But no matter what, you were innocent and not in a naive way. In a way where you wanted to find a grand purpose. A grand quest. A great meaning of it all. I thought you found that on your venture to Oz, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe you needed one last mission and maybe that mission was me. And for that I am truly sorry. I don’t know how I can ever make up for that.  _

 

_ I did dark and twisted things after you died. Seeing your lifeless body in that bathtub was like a bullet to the head. It snuffed out all the sunshine I had left. It pushed me over a line that I am not sure I will ever be able to come back from. I hurt people, most deserved it. They did. But the way I did it. The pleasure I got from it. Well, that...now that is not something that I will ever be able to come to terms with. _

 

_ But I am trying to forgive myself. In little stages. In little increments. I’m trying to piece together the pieces that have been missing for so long. I really...well, I think I have quit drinking. It’s not easy and I haven’t yet said the words “Hello. My name is Dean and I’m an alcoholic”, but I can admit that it was a problem. That it led to so much numbness that at times I couldn’t remember what it felt like to not have a buzz coursing through my veins. I’m also going to therapy. Yes, I really am. You can stop laughing now. And it’s...it’s the reason I’m writing this. The thing that pushed me towards this. I supposed it is a much healthier outlet than whiskey or meaningless sex. Now sex I haven’t really decided to give up yet. I mean there’s only so much a man should have to sacrifice. But I’m trying to be better. I’m trying for Sam and Cas and...and I’m trying for you.  _

 

_ There will always be a piece of me that wonders if you will come back. I mean we’ve gotten so many others back. Hell, Sam and I have gone through our nine lives by now. Yes, I know we had our hunter’s funeral, but I can still hope. And if you don’t I hope you are in Heaven with your mom and dad and you’re reading Lord of the Rings and you’re at peace. _

 

_ I should’ve told you I loved you. I should’ve said those words. The fear of what happens after those words are uttered stops me everytime. I know that’s unfair, but I just don’t know how to do that. But I’ll try and learn for you. I’ll try and let down those walls for you. I can tell you right now that you were like sunshine. Maybe the light that shines down sometimes is from you. Maybe it’s you telling us that you’re still out there somewhere. That your light can still shine through all the crappy darkness of it all. I’d like to think that. I’d like to think there’s some meaning to it all. For now I can just hope that you are okay wherever you are. That maybe someday you’ll forgive me for turning your life upside down. That maybe that light is still shining for me.  _

 

_ Miss you kiddo, _

 

_ Dean _

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like Dean, I am also afraid of flying and I used to get incredibly anxious anytime I had to go near an airport. Also, the restaurant in Wichita is a real one. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading and for supporting this work. Hope you like where I am taking it.


	5. A Hunter's Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean deals with turning a year older and his longing for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm so sorry for the long delay. Things have been crazy, I was sick and had a sick dog. To make up for it I am posting a somewhat longer chapter. There is talk in the chapter about self-worth and mentions of death and being dead. Just as a heads up. This was very quickly edited as well, so sorry for any mistakes. Thank you for reading and remember that you are never alone. <3

It’d been almost a week since he’d given Donna his poems to read and he hadn’t heard from her. He tried not to worry. Tried not to check his phone every five minutes. But then it became a week and a day and he was a wreck. Good thing he had therapy today, he supposed. At least he could talk about it, sort out his feelings.  _ Jesus, what the heck was that about? _

 

Laura was finishing up her check in, asking the same old boring questions that Dean had rehearsed the answers to. “Have you been feeling suicidal?” “No.” “Any thoughts of harming yourself or others?”  _ Look, there’s a list over a mile long of things I’d like to hurt.  _ “Nope.” It was becoming so routine that Dean was starting to wonder if she was as bored with his answers as he was with saying them. 

 

“Have you heard anything from Donna yet?” Back to reality. 

 

“Nope.”

 

“How does that make you feel?”

 

He shrugged. “Fine. I mean she’s a sheriff and kind of busy.”

 

Laura knitted her brow. “She’s a sheriff?”  _ Shit _ . “I thought that she was in the same line of work as you?”

 

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and tried to think of a way out of this. He’d been lying for years, surely he could do this. “Yeah, she um...the pay isn’t great so she does other stuff on the side.” By the look on her face Dean could tell that his bullshitting skills were getting worse and worse. He briefly debated about whether or not he should just tell her the whole truth. It was something he had been thinking about for awhile now. He could just ease her into it. She seemed to like him okay. Maybe she wouldn’t lock him up in a padded room. 

 

“Have you tried to contact her?” Laura’s words shook Dean out of his thoughts and he realized that Laura had once again decided to choose her battles. 

 

He cleared his throat. “No. I mean I sent her one text to make sure she was okay, but I didn't ask her about the poems.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I don’t wanna pressure her or anything. I kind of just threw them on her.” He licked his lips. “I’m sure she’ll read them when she gets a chance.”

 

“And what if she doesn’t?”

 

Dean realized he hadn’t actually considered that possibility. “Um...it’s fine. I mean I’d...she’ll read them.”

 

“I’m sure she will, but if she doesn’t what will you do?”

 

He swallowed. “I...I don’t have any copies of them.” 

 

“So, you’d have to ask her about them.”

 

“I guess, but that won’t happen.”

 

“Dean, how would you feel if she really decided not to read them?”

 

“I...it’s not going to happen and maybe she...she’s really busy.”

 

Laura leaned forward. Letting Dean off the hook wasn’t going to happen that much any more. “How would you feel?”

 

He blinked, looked away and swallowed. “It would hurt like hell.”

 

Laura nodded. “Why?”

 

He shook his head and looked back at her. “Why?” She nodded. “Because it would mean that she didn’t...that I didn’t…” He looked down at his hands, studying the various scars that his life had left upon them. He turned them over a couple of times before finally looking up. “That I didn’t matter.” He pursed his lips and swallowed around the lump in his throat. 

 

“Do you feel invisible, Dean?”

 

The word stung worse than he could have ever imagined. He took a shaky breath and nodded. “I mean, I know I’m there and people see me, but...there are times when I feel like I’m standing in a crowd of people and no one really sees me.”

 

“And what would it look like if they could really see you?”

 

“I don’t know.” He crossed his arms tightly, trying to shield himself from the pain inside. “Like I was of value. Like if I were to really die tomorrow I would be missed and not just for what I could do for others.”

 

“Your spirit would be missed?” He shook his head. “And if Donna doesn’t read your poems it’s like you’re invisible to her?” 

 

“Yeah.”

“Dean, I know that you may not believe me, but there are people who really see you.” 

 

“I guess.”

 

“I’m serious. The people who support you being here, they see you. They want you to heal that spirit inside of you.” He shook his head and looked away. “ _ I _ want you to heal that spirit inside of you.” He looked back at her and saw how genuine she was being. It was almost too much for him to believe in at the moment.

 

He let out a breath he had been holding. “I have these dreams sometimes where I’m walking around the bunker and everyone I’ve ever cared about is there. My mom and dad are sitting on a couch together, fingers entwined and they’re so happy. And all the people I’ve ever lost are alive and well. No death. No danger. All of them are safe. And Sam, Sam is with his college girlfriend, only now she’s his fiance and they’re planning their life. Maybe getting ready to welcome a new Winchester. 

 

“Cas is whole, nothing missing anymore and he’s...he’s forgiven himself for everything he thinks he’s done. For all the people he feels he’s let down. He’s at peace.” He glances down at his hands. “Charlie, Bobby, Jo, Ellen, Benny. Everyone. They’re all sitting around, laughing, happy and alive. And I’m standing in the middle of it all, just watching them living. Sometimes I study them taking in a breath. Watching their chests rise with each inhale. I let their laughter, the tenor of their voices, just wash over me. I sometimes think this must be what Heaven should look like.”  _ Even though I know that’s not what it is.  _ He takes a deep breath, trying to feel that same life fill his lungs. “And then I try to talk to them. I walk up to everyone, trying to say hello. Trying to give them hugs or join in on some joke. But no one sees me. No one hears me. They just look through me. 

 

“Sometimes I try to scream, just yell at the top of my lungs. Nothing. And it feels me with such hurt and despair and loneliness that it actually burns. And I think, ‘well, maybe this the way it should be. Maybe if you’re gone, they can live. They can be happy.’” He looks down at his jeans, noticing little wet spots from tears that he hadn’t even realized he had been crying. “Like maybe they thought they needed me, but really they don’t. They never did. That my being alive only caused their suffering. 

 

“And everytime I wake up from one of these dreams I’m filled with a rush of relief. A relief that makes me sick to my stomach. I mean I don’t want them to be dead. I don’t want Sam and Cas to be unhappy. I just-” He shuts his mouth. Afraid to say the next words. Knowing he’s said too much. 

 

“You want them to see you.” 

 

“Yyess.”His voice cracks and more tears fall. “I’m a horrible person.”

 

“No you’re not.”

 

“Yes, I am. I’m happy that my family is still dead. I’m happy that Cas is shut off from his family and that Sam lost his love.”

 

“Dean, when you first see them alive, how do you feel?”

 

“Elated. Overjoyed. Happier than I can even imagine.”

 

“But when they don’t see you. When you can’t really be loved in return that’s when it hurts.” He looked down, feeling a shame burning inside of him. “You’ve told me many times that you blame yourself for your friends deaths. So in this dream you being gone made them live, but it still hurt. Because you want them alive and you want to be there with them.”

 

“Because I’m selfish.”

 

“No. Because you love them.”

 

“I would give my life in a heartbeat to bring them all back.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I really am happy when I see them alive. I just...I just want to be a part of that.”

 

“You want to be happy. You want to be loved.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“It’s good that you want to be happy. It’s good that you want to be loved.” She took a deep breath. “It means that you don’t want to die, Dean.” He studied her face, trying to find any hint of a lie. He only saw that same care he saw before. 

 

“I’m so scared.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I don’t want to die.”

 

“I know.” She gave him a reasuring smile. “I’m going to help you. I will.”

 

There was that promise again. That vow to save him. But how could she.

 

* * *

 

Dean sat in the garage, his hands on the steering wheel of the impala. He had been sitting there for almost twenty minutes, just staring straight ahead. His life had been a series of either running from death or coming back from the dead. It was something he had always accepted. Just the Winchester way. But now there was something else there. Something he couldn’t put his finger on. Some sort of need to live. To be. To be more than what he was. It scared the hell out of him.

 

This feeling wasn’t entirely new. A few months before it all went to shit and the mark nearly destroyed everything, he had confessed that longing. That longing to experience things differently. Back then he was sure he was going to die and soon. He was going to go down after trying to fight that stupid mark. There was something about feeling like your world was about to end that made you have a newfound desire to live. To taste. To love. He hadn’t really understood that then. That feeling hadn’t hit him as hard the months before Hell, but it had been there as well. Like an itch he couldn’t scratch. 

 

Now, with no looming threat of death that he was aware of. No impending apocalypse. Nothing but the dangers of being a hunter in front of him, and those were some mighty big dangers, he wanted to live. He was scared of dying. He was scared of leaving everyone behind. But more than all of that, he was scared of them all leaving him. Of shutting his eyes and waking in a dark and empty room with only his thoughts to keep him company. 

 

The sound of the garage door closing made Dean jump and he glanced up to see Cas walking toward the Impala. He swallowed and tried to straighten up, glancing in the rearview mirror to make sure he hadn’t been crying again. Everything looked okay. He ran a hand through his hair and waved to Cas. He waved back, his head slightly cocked to the side. He could do this. He could get out of the car and live with the fact that he wanted more than this. 

 

Dean opened the car door and climbed out, plastering a smile on his face. “Hey, Cas.”

 

“Hello, Dean.” He glanced around, like he almost expected someone else to be there. “How long have you been out here?”

 

“Not long. Just...there was a song I wanted to finish listening to.”

 

Cas furrowed his brow and Dean could almost hear him gauging about whether or not to believe him. “Oh. I thought I heard you pull in a while ago and was worried you might be hurt or something.”

 

“I keep telling you guys that you don’t have to worry about me.”

 

Cas hung his head and Dean instantly regretted his words. “I’m sorry.”

 

Dean took a step forward. “Hey, you don’t have to apologize, man. I’m sorry, I know you’re just concerned.” He gave Cas a quick smile, shoved his hands in the pocket of his jeans and rocked back on his heels. “So, we good?”

 

“Of course, Dean.”

 

“Good. Let’s go inside then.” Cas looked at him for a moment, like he was weighing out the pros and cons of that. He finally turned and led the way back inside. “So, is Sam in here worrying as well?”

 

“No. He went into town to see some movie.”

 

“What some French film or something?”

 

They stopped inside the library. “A documentary, I believe.” Cas looked around the room for a moment, almost like he was taking it in for the first time. 

 

“Cas?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Do you miss home?”

 

“You mean Heaven?”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Cas took a deep breath. “I miss parts of it, but this-” He gestured to the room. “This feels like home now.” 

 

The relief that washed over Dean took him by surprise. “Can I ask you something?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Do you think that when-” Dean took a seat. “Do you think that when I die I’ll go to Heaven?”

 

Cas furrowed his brow, a look of concern in his eyes. He sat down. “Dean, do you think you’re going to-”

 

Dean held his hand up. “No. Nothing like that. I’ve just been thinking. All the stuff I’ve done. All the pain I’ve caused. I just wonder if there’s a place up there for me or if…maybe it’s Purgatory or Hell from now on.”

 

“I can’t say for sure, Dean. But it wouldn’t be Purgatory.”

 

“But I was so…”

 

“I believe that you have done more good than bad. A lot more. You helped to save the world.”

 

“Do you think my mom and dad are up there? Do you think they’re happy?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And my friends? All the ones that I couldn’t save?”

 

“I would like to think so.”

 

“I hope so. I know that everyone gets their own Heaven and I probably won’t see them in mine.”

 

“Perhaps.”

 

“But just knowing they’re happy. Just-” Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “I just want them to be happy and at peace.”

 

“You’re a good man.”

 

“I don’t know about that.” Dean smiled. “But I know that you are a good man, Cas. You’re family. And this place will always be your home.” Cas smiled at him.

 

* * *

 

_ January 18th, 2017 _

 

_ Hey, I may not be good at keeping up with this thing, but I’m trying. Still no word from Donna. I tried calling her, but then I chickened out. I feel like a teenager. I know she’s been busy. I keep trying to tell myself that I’ll be okay if she doesn’t respond. I’ll be okay if she forgets about the poems. I can survive that, right? Hell, I’ve survived worse than that. They’re just poems. Just some stupid teenage angst or some shit like that. But I want her to read them. I want her to like them. I want her to tell me that it won’t kill Sam to read them. That the words I wrote back then won’t break his heart. That it won’t bring up pain he’s tried to forget.  _

 

_ It’s been so quiet around here lately. Not many cases. Not much to fight. Not sore every morning. No concussions. No stitching done with the aide of whiskey. Man, those silent times when there was nothing happening used to scare the crap out of me. There was always this gnawing inside of me that wanted something to save. Something to solve. Now it’s like I’m happy about it. Truly happy about it, not just relieved to be able to sleep. Although I still don’t sleep that much. Because maybe there was more to this life that I wanted. Those are thoughts I’ve tried to avoid in this line of work. Those thoughts bring you nothing but pain and regret and who has time for that. But now it’s like these thoughts are just there wanting to get out. I don’t even know what it is I would do. What else I could be.  _

 

_ Man I really hope she reads the poems. I know how pathetic that sounds, but I need her to. I need someone I trust to read them. To see who I was then. To see what I thought then. That I wasn’t just a good little soldier. Dad’s helper. Dad’s apprentice. I was more than that at one time. For a few fleeting moments. I’ve had times of freedom. Moments of real life. And I need others to know that. To see that. To see me.  _

* * *

 

Two days later Donna called. It was early morning. Dean was in the kitchen, drinking his first cup of coffee and working on a soggy bowl of Cheerios. The ringing of his phone startled him, little droplets of coffee spilling from his cup. He’d looked down at the caller ID and stared. He wasn’t sure if it was real and it took a couple more rings before he answered. She asked him if there was any way they could meet to talk. She said she was back in Wichita and had rented a car. He was a little shocked by that and he couldn’t shake the slight dread that filled him. Why would she rush out here? Something must be wrong. She tried to convince him otherwise, but that little itch of doom that had been keeping quiet was roaring back to life. 

 

Dean told Sam and Cas that he was meeting Donna in town and that it was private. They both looked at each other, Sam with a cocky look on his face. “Sam, cut it out.”

 

“I didn’t say anything.” But the shit eating grin on his face gave him away and Dean was convinced Sam would be telling Cas that Dean had some secret thing with Donna. Fine, they could think whatever they wanted. Hell, it’d be better than what it probably was. 

 

Dean left, flipping Sam off, and tried to stop the flip-flop of his stomach. He had already taken his anti-anxiety medication. It was just a precaution, or that’s what he tried to tell himself. But the thumping of his heart told a different story. The drive into town seemed to take a lot longer than usual. There was rarely any traffic, but today it seemed like everyone wanted to impede him. His grip on the wheel grew so tight that by the time he arrived at the small cafe his knuckles were white and he had to rub his hands.

 

Dean looked straight ahead and saw Donna sitting at a table by the window, sipping a cup of coffee. She glanced at her watch and swallowed. She seemed a little uneasy, not quite as jovial or relaxed as Dean would’ve liked. Maybe he should’ve taken two of those pills. She looked out the window and caught site of Dean. She looked at him for a moment, before a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She waved, a little more excitement to it than Dean had counted on. He smiled, feeling a slight release of the tension he had been carrying in his shoulders. He waved and headed toward her. 

She stood when he entered and held her arms out to him. He gladly accepted the hug and felt himself relax into her arms. She gave him a squeeze before letting him go. They both sat down and he gestured for the waiter, ordering a decaf, his nerves were too frayed for caffeine. “It’s so good to see you, Dean.” 

 

“You too.”

 

“I’m sorry that I haven’t been in touch lately.”

 

“It’s okay. I know you’ve been busy.”

 

“Still no excuse. You gave me those-” She paused, reached a hand across the table and gave his hand a squeeze. “I read them. More than once. More than twice.”

 

He swallowed, the nerves returning. “You did?”

 

“Dean, they-” The waiter showed up, setting the cup of coffee in front of him. 

 

“Thanks.” The waiter smiled and walked away. Dean took a sip of the nearly scalding hot coffee. The burn was a welcome distraction from the nerves inside. 

 

Donna reached into her purse, pulling out the envelope that Dean had carried for so long. She held it close to her chest. “The words you wrote. I don’t know what to say.”

 

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. I know that I’m not the smartest or-”

 

Donna leaned forward, reaching her hand out to him again. “They were beautiful.” He quickly blinked back the tears he could feel coming. “Painful, but beautiful.”

 

“Really?”

 

She smiled and gave his hand a squeeze. “You’re super talented, mister.” 

 

He smiled and felt his shoulders loosen. “Thanks.”

 

“You should write more of these.”

 

He laughed. “I don’t know about that.”

 

“They’re really good. Really good.” He smiled and took another sip of coffee. 

 

They sat in comfortable silence for a bit before Dean took the plunge. “Do you think that...do you think that Sam would-” Dean looked out the window. “Do you think it’d be safe to show them to Sam?” He looked back at Donna. 

 

She looked down at the envelope and nodded. “Yeah. I do.” She set the envelope down on the table. “I know you’re scared that they’ll be too painful for him to read. I do. But he can take it. He’s a big, strong guy.”

 

Dean looked down at the envelope for a minute and then he picked it up. Turning it over in his hands. “I’m scared.”

 

“I know.”

 

“The stuff I wrote in here. I just don’t want him to think that I hate him or our life.”

 

“Dean, Sam knows you love him.”

 

“I just don’t want him to blame himself.”

 

“You can’t protect him from everything.”

 

“I keep trying to tell myself that.”

 

“He’ll survive them. I promise.”

 

He let out a breath and turned the envelope over in his hands. “Yeah. Maybe.” He smiled at her. “Thank you for not...for not laughing at me.”

 

She knitted her brow. “I would never laugh at you. You have to stop that.”

 

“Stop what?”

 

“Not believing in yourself.” She pointed at the envelope. “The words you wrote, those aren’t words from some useless idiot. Those are words from someone who...who has so much to give this world.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Hey, I’m being serious here.” She pointed at him. “You are worthy, okay. Hopefully someday I won’t have to keep telling you that.”

 

He smiled at her. “Thanks, Donna.”

 

“Anytime.” She gave him a bright smile and he tried to let it fill him with courage. 

 

* * *

 

Dean didn’t give Sam the poems. Or at least not yet. But it had only been a couple of days since Donna had given them back. He had gone home and stuck them in a Def Leppard album cover and tried to work up the courage to give them to his brother. He went over scripts in his head or ways he could just casually give them to him. Maybe he could slip them under his door. 

 

He was still trying to think of a plan when his next session arrived. He was running through the check-in. Going through the usual routine. She asked him how he was. He said he was fine again. She grabbed that notebook and turned it to a new page. Before she could ask her next question, Dean cleared his throat. “Donna read them.”

 

Laura looked up. “The poems?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What did she say?”

 

He let out a chuckle. “She said they were beautiful.” 

 

“How did that make you feel?”

 

“Relieved. Nervous. Uncomfortable.”

 

“Because of the complement?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Did you believe her?”

 

“Do you think I shouldn’t have?”

 

“No. I think you should. I just wanted to know if you did.”

 

He hadn’t even thought to question it. “Hmm...yeah. I believed her.”

 

“Good.”

 

“She said they were painful too. Painful and beautiful.”

 

“And how did that make you feel?”

 

“Sad. I don’t know. Worried I guess.”

 

“What were you worried about?”

 

“I didn’t want to hurt her or make her worry.”

 

“Did she say she was?”

 

“No, but-” He crossed his arms. “We met for coffee in town. She had flown all the way in to give me the poems. It made me really nervous before I saw her. I figured something horrible had happened or was happening. That’s just kind of the way it usually goes. And then when I pulled up to the coffee shop I saw her sitting there and she had this...she looked sad.” He shrugged. “It worried me, but then I went in there and it was like that sadness went away.”

 

“Did you ask her about it?”

 

“No. I just tried to forget it.”

 

“And you’re worried that the sadness has something to do with your poems?”

 

“Not at the time, but now...I don’t know.”

 

“Maybe she was worried that it took so long for her to get back to you. Or maybe she was just sad about the pain you were in when you wrote them.”

 

“She did apologize for taking so long to get back to me.”

 

“Then that might be what it is.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What did she say about showing them to Sam?”

 

“She said I should. That I can’t protect him from everything and that he wouldn’t blame me for what is written.”

 

“And have you?”

 

“No. I don’t know how.”

 

“Are you going to show them to him?”

 

“Yes.” The lack of hesitation shocked him, but he knew it was the truth.

 

“I’m glad to hear that.”

 

“I just don’t know when.”

 

“I think that when it feels right you’ll know.”

 

“I hope so.” 

 

“Have you done any other writing?”

 

“Yeah. I journaled and I...I did write an entry about Charlie.”

 

“How did that feel?”

 

“It hurt like hell, but...but I’m glad I did it.” He licked his lips. “It came easy after the first couple of tries didn’t go anywhere.”

 

“I’m really proud of you. I know how painful it must have been.”

 

“Yeah.” Dean looked down at his shoes.

 

“Have you had anymore dreams like the one you told me about?”

 

“No.” He rubbed his arm. 

 

“What are you thinking about?”

 

He straightened up. “Nothing.” She cocked her head to the side. “It’s nothing, really. I just...my birthday is tomorrow.”

 

She glanced down at what he assumed was a pretty blank piece of paper, almost like she was thinking his date of birth would be there. She shook her head and looked back up. “Happy birthday.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“How old will you be?”

 

“Isn’t it rude to ask that?”

 

“You don’t have to answer.”

 

“Thirty-eight.” He laughed.

 

“What? That’s not that old.”

 

“It’s not that. I just never thought that I would live this long.”

 

A brief look of sadness crossed her face before she continued on. “Do you have anything planned?”

 

“Nope. We don’t usually celebrate.” He held up his hand. “And before you ask, we didn’t celebrate that much as a child either. And no, even if you want to push it, I don’t want to talk about that.”

 

“Okay. Fair enough.” She leaned forward. “But if you were to celebrate, what would you want to do?”

 

“I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter.”

 

“Yes it does.”

 

“Look, I don’t need balloons and some silly cake. Okay, maybe the cake, but it’s just another day.”

 

“You said that you didn’t think you would survive this long. That makes it a pretty big deal.”

 

He shrugged. “Maybe.”

 

“So, if you did celebrate, what would you want to do?”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe go see a movie, something mindless, not one of Sam’s foreign films. Then maybe we could go get burgers and pie. Then go for a drive. You’d think I’d be sick of driving after all this time, but I still love it. Maybe we could show Cas where Sam and I-” Dean quickly looked away, not wanting to continue that thought.

 

“Show Cas what?”

 

Dean shook his head. “Nothing. Just nothing.” He shifted in his seat, silently cursing himself for even allowing himself to think about things like birthdays. 

 

“Dean-”

 

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

 

“Something upset you.”

 

“Yeah, all this stupid birthday talk. I told you, it’s pointless.”

 

“What is it you wanted to show Cas?”

 

“Please, can we not talk about this?”

 

“I told you, we can’t keep dropping things.”

 

“I know, but I...I don’t know why I even thought about it, because it’s stupid and there would be no point to it.”

 

“To what?”

 

Fuck, why did he have to do this. What was wrong with him? “I just thought that...maybe I could show him...show him where we were from.”

 

“Where you lived before your mom died?”

 

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “It’s stupid, really. I mean what would be the point.” Plus, he’s already sort of been there, but that was different.”

 

“Cas is your best friend, right?” He nodded. “Maybe you just want to show him that part of you that he never knew.”

 

“It’s so weird, you know. It’s just a few hours a way, but it feels like miles and miles.”

 

“Have you been there since you left?”

 

“Yeah. A couple of times.”  _ Some in the present. Some in the past.  _

 

“How does it feel going back there?”

 

“It hurts, you know. But then it’s gone.”

 

“Maybe you want to go back.”

 

“I think it would be too hard for Sam.”

 

“And for you?”

 

“Yeah. Look I told you can we just go back to something else.”

 

“Okay. I think you need to celebrate your birthday this year.”

 

“Oh man.”

 

“Just try it. You have a lot to celebrate, Dean. You’ve come so far and you’ve survived.”

 

“I guess.” He rolled his eyes.  _ Although it would be a good excuse to binge on burgers and pie _ , he thought. Maybe he could ask for that. Maybe.

 

* * *

 

It was January 24th, his birthday. Dean lay in bed, staring up at his ceiling wondering if he should even mention it. They had never really done the birthday thing, even when they were kids. Sure, their dad would make sure they had cake or pie and usually ice cream. Sometimes they would go to an arcade or even a movie, but if there was a hunt then it would be a birthday card and promises of cake when the monster of the week was defeated. This way of celebrating had followed them into adulthood. Sometimes they would get each other cards and sometimes cake or a celebratory shot. But it wasn’t something you celebrated as a hunter. Another year older only meant you were already living on borrowed time. 

 

There was the year he was living with Lisa and Ben. Lisa wanted to have a huge party. Dean had pleaded with her not to, saying a steak dinner and some pie would be good enough. She didn’t listen to him and threw him a surprise party. People he barely knew had filled her, or their, home and he had to try and make small talk with the “normal” people of the world. The whole thing really made him uncomfortable. How do people normally handle things like that? But after the party had winded down and the last guest had left, it was just Lisa, Ben and him. They brought out a cherry pie that was all his, with vanilla ice cream on top. Then the gifts. Ben gave him a replica of a ‘67 Chevy Impala that so closely matched Baby he wanted to cry. He said he was hoping maybe it would lead to him taking the car out from under the tarp. Then there was the card. The card started with “Dear Dad,” and he had to fight the tears that wanted to come. He wanted to tell Ben that he wasn’t his dad. That he couldn’t fill that role, but he couldn’t do it. Couldn’t pop that bubble of domesticity that he was at ease with for that brief moment. Lisa gave him a gorgeous  _ Fossil  _ watch. A watch Dean would take off whenever he was away from her. It always felt foreign on his arm. Like it was laughing at him. Like it knew he was an imposter. The card she gave him was filled with love and gratitude. Gratitude he didn't deserve. 

 

They had played cards and stayed up way past Ben’s bedtime. They laughed and Dean ate so much pie he was positive he had gained ten pounds. It was all so normal. So everyday. It was the first time that he let himself be truly happy since his brother had gone away. It was the last time he really celebrated his birthday. The last time he allowed an acknowledgement that went beyond a shot of whiskey and a one night stand. 

 

Dean shook his head, not wanting to remember that time. Lisa and Ben wouldn’t, why should he be allowed the luxury. He threw off the covers and headed toward the kitchen. 

 

Cas and Sam were sitting at the kitchen table, newspapers and cups of coffee in front of them. They glanced up when he entered, giving him a head nod and a mumbled “Good morning”. No happy birthday. No jabs about his age. Nothing. He shouldn’t be surprised. This was normal. They didn’t do this. He had to keep reminding himself of that. And Cas probably didn’t even know. But he couldn’t help the little pang of hurt he felt. Dammit, why did he ever have to discuss this in therapy. False hope wasn’t good for anyone. 

 

The rest of the morning went on like that. Reading of papers. Scanning of the internet. No new cases. Nothing really to distract him from the fact that no one had said “Happy Birthday.” He would normally try and sneak off into town, maybe find someone to take his mind off things. But for some reason that depressed him even more. 

 

Dean made himself a turkey sandwich for lunch with extra turkey, because god dammit it was his birthday. He excused himself to his room and decided maybe he’d try to catch up on  _ Game of Thrones. _ He made it through two episodes and three sandwiches, when there was a knock on the door. “Yeah?”

 

Sam cleared his throat, “Dean, can you come out here for a second?”

 

Dean sighed and closed the laptop. “Coming.” He opened the door and Sam was walking down the hallway. Dean started following him. “You know, the show was just starting to get good, so this better be-” They turned the corner and entered the library. There, hanging above the doorway, was a cheesy, multi-colored banner that read, “Happy Birthday!” He tried to look annoyed. Tried to hide the smile that was slowly spreading across his face. But the joy he felt took over.

 

“Bet you thought we forgot.” Sam playfully punched him the arm.

 

“What? No. I mean I wasn’t even-” Then the lights dimmed and a familiar voice started singing behind him. 

 

“Happy Birthday to you.” Dean turned to see Donna carrying a huge cake with a number 3 and a number 8 candle. Turned out she hadn’t gone back home. Had been staying in town. Wanting to keep it a secret. To surprise him. Yep, he couldn’t hide the smile now. As corny and cheesy as it all was, it was still the sweetest thing anyone had done for him since...since a long time. 

 

They ate cake, ice cream and burgers, in that ordered. They laughed and played cards. Turned out Cas had one of the best poker faces around. They stayed up way past...well, until nearly midnight. They were getting old after all. There were no big gifts, just a few cards, but it didn’t matter. It was perfect. His family. His friends. All of them there and happy and healthy. It was the best birthday he’d ever had. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't watch Game of Thrones, so have no idea how long it would take to start getting good. Lol Thanks again for reading.


	6. A Dose of Courage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a couple of missed sessions, Dean and Sam have their fourth session together.

The quiet that they had gotten used to came to an abrupt halt two days after Dean’s birthday. They were sent on not one, but two hunts within a week of each other. The first a simple salt and burn case where a woman’s husband couldn’t handle her dating someone else and had become violent towards her new boyfriend. The other was a little more complicated. They had gone to a Springfield, Missouri where there had been a rash of murders. But when the apparent culprits were arrested they claimed that they had no memory of the crime. First thought was possession, but there were no signs pointing to demons. After a day of investigation they discovered they were dealing with a shapeshifter. Ever since his own very personal encounter with them, Dean held not only a contempt for them, but a slight fear. It was a fear he never discussed with anyone and sadly could not discuss with Laura. Unless he was to reveal things he wasn’t sure he ever could. He tried to shake off that fear again and went to work. Killing this shapeshifter didn’t hold any of the triumph it usually would. There was something almost sad about it. Not that he thought it should live, but there was a sadness that he had to do any of this anymore. Dammit, that regret just wouldn’t stop knocking on his door. 

 

The two hunts had taken two weeks out of his time and he had to cancel two therapy appointments. One of those would have been the third (fourth) group session with Sam. Sam had told him that they could just reschedule there’s till he got a chance to have an individual one, but Dean told him it was fine. It would be way over five weeks since their last one and he had this feeling that Sam was really wanting to go. They scheduled their third, no fourth, group session for February 6th. 

 

The poems were still tucked inside the  _ Def Leppard _ album cover. He hadn’t even taken them out to look at them since putting them in there. He knew he should be giving them to Sam before their next session. He kept trying to get up the courage to take them out. The hunts distracted him from that for a brief time, but now they were home and they were just a few days away from sitting together in that room. Just a few days away from Laura asking if he had shown them to him and Sam looking at him with disappointment. 

 

He looked over his records, his eyes landing on the album containing his secrets. He could do this. Donna liked them. She had faith in him. He reached for the album, his hands shaking. He removed the envelope and just stared at it. Maybe giving it to Sam before a session was the best way. They could discuss anything it brought up then and there and they could both have that support. That referee. He swallowed, put the album, without the poems, back amongst the other records. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer that he hoped no one else could hear. 

 

Sam was in the library reading one of the old books they had. Dean watched him for a moment, before clearing his throat. Sam looked up from his book and gave a him a little smile. “Hey, what’s up?”

 

Dean took a couple of steps toward him and looked down at the envelope for a moment. “Yeah, so um…” He took in a deep breath and set the envelope down on the table. “Those are my...there are my poems.” Sam sat up straighter, his mouth slightly ajar. “You can read them whenever you like.”

 

“Dean-”

 

“You don’t have to read them now or even tomorrow or-” He shook his head. “Okay.” He gave Sam a quick smile and turned to leave. 

 

He grabbed the car keys and practically ran for the door. He couldn’t stay there, sitting in his room waiting for Sam’s reaction. He drove into town and stopped at a little greasy spoon. They had some of the best bacon cheeseburgers around. He took a seat at the counter and order a double bacon cheeseburger and coke. His stomach was doing flip-flops, but he was able to quickly finish off half the sandwich and a quarter of the fries before his nerves got the best of him. He left a generous tip and took off. The open road would help. It didn’t matter that they had only been back for a couple days. 

 

He drove Baby down the backroards, they were always better. He watched the sunset and saw the moon rise. He sent Sam a quick text letting him know he was fine. Just needed to get out for a bit. He drove for a few more hours, avoiding places he may have gone before. He finally felt like he could venture back to the bunker. He parked the car and steeled himself for whatever he might encounter. 

 

Silence. Sam wasn’t in the library or kitchen, his door was closed and the soft sound of some video came from behind the door. Okay. He didn’t read them yet. Or he did and he just- Dean went back to his room and tried to get some sleep. He might be able to get more than just a few hours. He should take advantage of that. But he couldn’t sleep and when he finally drifted off he was greeted by dark and empty dreams. It was just him, alone, no one there, but the knowledge that everything and everyone had left him. He woke up around dawn, drenched in sweat, heart pounding. He took a quick shower, trying to wake up. Trying to come back to the present.

 

He dried off and heard his stomach rumble. Breakfast. Breakfast could get him back to the present. He made his way to the kitchen, only briefly looking at Sam’s shut door. He must still be asleep. Dean turned the corner and stopped when he saw Sam sitting at the kitchen table, coffee in his hand and a nearly empty bowl of cereal in front of him. He glanced up. “Morning.”

 

Dean blinked and walked toward the coffee. “Morning.” He poured a cup of coffee and rummaged in the fridge, pulling out the milk. He poured himself a huge bowl of cereal and sat across from his brother. 

 

“Already checked the papers and the web this morning. No new cases.”

 

“Okay.” Dean took a drink of his coffee. Should he ask about the poems? No. That would be silly. 

 

Sam took his dishes to the sink. “I’m gonna take a shower.” Dean nodded to him and watched him walk away. He probably didn’t read them. That’s all. They could talk about in their session. 

 

* * *

 

Dean had already gone through his individual check-in. Sam had sat out in the lobby once again looking through some sort of home improvement magazine. Dean was beginning to wonder if Sam was making plans for some sort of remodel to the bunker. Now they both sat in Laura’s office. Same spots on the couch. He didn’t bring up the poems in his check-in and he wasn’t going to be the one to mention them. Sam still hadn’t. 

 

“How have you been, Sam?” Laura asked. 

 

He gave Dean a quick sideways glance and then looked at Laura. He smiled and nodded his head. “Good. Busy.”

 

“I understand you guys had some big jobs recently.”

 

“Yeah, sorry Dean had to miss some appointments with you and I know that technically our session wasn’t supposed to happen yet.”

 

“No apology needed.”

 

Dean looked over at him. “I said it was fine, Sam.” 

 

“You say a lot of things, Dean.”

 

“What does that mean?”

 

Sam shook his head and held his hand out in surrender. “Nothing. Forget it.”

 

Dean crossed his arms and shook his head. “Every time we come in here you just-”

 

Sam turned his head toward Dean. “I what?”

 

“Forget it.” He rolled his eyes. 

 

“Still hiding things. Still pretending everything's a-okay. Right, Dean?”

 

“What the fuck are you talking about? When have I ever pretended that-”

 

“When we were growing up.You said that everything was fine. That life was great. And it wasn’t. I knew it and dammit, you did too.”

 

Dean didn’t know what to say. He felt blindsided. Sam just glared at him. He looked down at his lap, trying to recall where he went wrong. Laura broke the silence. “Sam, is there a reason you’re bringing this up now?”

 

Sam blinked and looked over at Laura. “Dean gave me the poems.” Fuck. So this is why the silent treatment. He never should’ve listened to Donna. 

 

“And they made you angry?”

 

“Yes.” Sam shook his head. “I mean no. They just-” He took a deep breath, glanced at Dean and then looked straight ahead. “I spent so long rebelling against our life. Against the way we grew up and especially against our dad. Dean would always try and make it better. He would tell me that our dad was a superhero. That everything he did was for us.” Sam swallowed. “And I tried to believe that. I looked up to my big brother and if he’s okay with it, there must be a reason for that. But then I got older and I grew tired of it. Tired of being carted around. Tired of having to-” Sam bit his lip and Dean suspected he may have been trying to decided what he could and couldn’t share. “So, I ran. I know that. But I deserved better.” Sam looked at Dean. “We both did.”

 

Sam took a deep breath and looked at his hands. “But the whole time I thought that Dean just...that he somehow was meant for this life. That he wasn’t just raised in it, but born to do it. Even when he briefly left it all behind.” He shook his head. “But then I read those poems and there was so much...I know how much he gave up. I do. I just...I didn’t realize how long he’s been hurting. How long he’s been...lost.” He glanced at Dean, but he quickly looked away. He could feel Sam’s eyes on him. Pleading with him to look at him. 

 

“And reading his poems showed you this?”

 

Sam shook his head and brought his attention back to Laura. “Yeah.”

 

Dean swallowed and spoke just above a whisper. “Why are you mad at me?”

 

“I’m not mad at you.”

 

Dean scoffed. “You got a hell of a way of showing it.”

 

“Dean, I’m just...I’m pissed that you don’t think you’re worthy of being disappointed. I’m angry that dad robbed you of so much. That you were stuck taking care of both of us and that...I’m angry I didn’t see it. I didn’t see how alone you were.” Dean looked at him and saw the pain and regret in his eyes. “You needed our dad to be your dad. You needed him to cheer you on. To be in your corner. And you didn’t get that.”

 

“It’s the cards we were dealt.”

 

“Don’t do that. It’s okay to be mad at him. It’s okay to be mad at me. It’s okay to want something else, Dean.”

 

“I’m scared to do that. I’m scared to hate him.”

 

Sam reached his hand out to him and squeezed his arm. “Dean, being mad at dad doesn’t mean you hate him.” He smiled. “I’m pissed as hell at him, but I still love the man.”

 

“I’m not mad at you, Sam. I just...sometimes I don’t know how to be anything more than your big brother.” 

 

“I know.” Sam gave him a playful punch in the arm. “And you know you’re a hell of a writer.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “I think that’s an overstatement.”

 

“No. It’s not. You should write more.”

 

“That’s what Donna said.”

 

Sam furrowed his brow. “Donna read them.”

 

“Yeah. I was...I just wanted an outsider’s opinion I guess.”

 

“Hmm.” Sam looked away and crossed his arms.

 

“Are you mad that I showed Donna?”

 

“Nope.” Dean could tell he was bullshitting, but he had no idea why.

 

He was going to press it when Laura spoke up. “Sam, does it bother you that Dean showed them to Donna first?”

 

“I just don’t get why he could show her, but it took him like two months to show me.”

 

“Maybe he found it easier to show someone who wasn’t around then.”

 

Sam ignored her and looked at Dean. “Did you show them to Cas?”

 

“What? No.”

 

“How about Benny?”

 

Dean laughed. This was ridiculous. “Benny? Why the hell would I have-” Dean rubbed his temples. “Jesus, the only people who ever saw them before Donna were people in my class.”

 

“I still don’t understand why you would show them to Donna before-”

 

Dean threw up his hands. “Because I was scared to death to show them to you. Because I was worried that they would hurt you in some way. I was worried that they would make you hate me or make you run or-” He shook his head. “I needed to know that it was safe to give them to you.”

 

“Then why didn’t you just show them to your therapist.” Sam glanced at Laura. “Isn’t that what she’s here for?”

 

“Because she doesn’t...she doesn’t understand our lives in the same way. She doesn’t….Donna knows our life. She knows the business because she’s part of it, okay. Plus, she cares about you. I had to hear it from someone who really knows.”

 

Sam pursed his lips. “So, I assume Donna said it was okay?” Dean nodded. “And if she hadn’t would you have shown them to me?”

 

“I don’t know, but probably not.”

 

“There you go again, trying to treat me like a kid. Jesus, you really think I couldn’t have handled it?”

 

“I was scared I would lose you.”

 

“Well, I read them and you haven’t.” Sam crossed his arms tightly, looked away and frowned. His shoulders were drawn up tight.

 

“Do you find it threatening that Dean showed Donna the poems?” Both Sam and Dean looked at Laura with mouths agape. 

 

“What? No. That’s ridiculous.”

 

“You asked if he showed them to Cas and to Benny.”

 

Sam shrugged. “Yeah, so?’’

 

“How would you have felt if he said that he shown them?”

“Annoyed that he felt like he could show them before me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Why?” She nodded. “Because I’m his brother.”

 

“And that gives you priority?”

 

“Yeah...I mean it just...I’m his brother.”

 

“And they’re his friends.”

 

“So?”

 

“Sometimes there are things you share with your friends that you don’t with your family.”

 

“Not with us.”

 

“You never had a friend that you shared stuff with that you never told your brother?”

 

“Okay, fine. In college and...it’s not the same.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because those were...because I’ve always been…” Sam looked at Dean and quickly looked away. He could see that Sam was embarrassed by something. “I’ve always been his...I know that he puts me first and when he chooses someone else I just...I get scared.”

 

“Scared of what?”

 

“Scared that he’ll leave me.”

 

“Sam, I would never leave you. You should know that by now.”

 

“You did not too long ago.”

 

“Oh come on. I wasn’t myself then. I was...you know what I was like.”

 

“I know it doesn’t make sense, but that just sticks there and then there was Benny.”

 

“I thought you got over that. And in the end I chose family over him.”

 

“I know, but I still worry that you regret that and-”

 

“Jesus, Sammy. You know that I put you above everything in this world. You are the most important person in my life. I could never...you’ll never lose me.”

 

“I’m sorry. I know it’s silly.”

 

“I showed Donna because I was trying to protect you, like usual. But I know I don’t have to do that. I do. It’s just I forget. I’ll get better.” Dean took a deep breath. “But I’m glad I showed her. Not because of you, but for me.”

 

“And showing me wouldn’t have helped you?”

 

“That’s not...with you I...sometimes I can’t see myself.”

 

“What does that even mean?”

 

“I don’t know. Never mind.”

 

Sam shifted in his seat. “I’m a burden to you.”

 

“Woah. I never said that.”

 

“You didn’t have to. Your poems kind of did.”

 

Dean tried to recall ever saying that. “I never...I was a teenager when I wrote those. I-”

 

“You know what, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

 

“You are seriously pissed at me about this.”

 

“I already told you I’m not angry.” 

 

“Yeah, you seem really at ease right now.”

 

“You know what-” Sam shook his head. “Forget it. This is pointless.” He looked back at Laura. “Can we...I know we have a few minutes left, but I’d like to end this now.”

 

Laura looked between Sam and Dean. “Are you sure, Sam?” 

 

“Yep.” He stood up and walked to the door. “I’ll wait for you downstairs.” He closed the office door behind him. 

 

_ What the fuck just happened? _ “Dean?” He shook his head and looked back at her. “Are you okay?”

 

“I...I’m fine. Sometimes he does that.” He gave her a smile and tried to make it real. 

 

“Do you want to-”

 

“No.” He let out a shaky breath and glanced toward the door. The longer he sat here, the farther away Sam could be. “I should go and see if he’s okay.” 

 

“Dean, it is okay that you gave him the poems.”

 

“I wish I could believe that.” He stood up. “I’ll...I’ll see you next week.” He walked out the door before she could say anything else. Before she could offer another word of encouragement. 

 

* * *

 

Sam was leaning up against the car when Dean made his way back down. A relief washed over him and he gave Sam a nod. Sam turned away and waited for the door to unlock. Not a word utter. Not even a smile. He watched as Sam silently got in the car. He made his way around to the driver’s side, took a deep breath and prepared for the ride back. 

 

The drive back to the bunker was just as quiet. The only words spoke were when they made their selection for lunch. They stopped at a drive-thru and grabbed some burgers. Dean hummed along to the music on the radio, trying not to dwell on the tension in the car. Trying to distract himself from the dread that was seeping into his bones.

 

When they got to the bunker Sam took his burger and went to his room. Dean went to the library and tucked into his lunch. The burger he had been hungry for now tasted sour in his mouth. The bread seemed overly dry and the meat was overcooked. He tossed the half-eaten sandwich away and tried not to listen to that little voice inside of him that was aching for a beer. Just one little shot of whiskey.  _ Why the hell was Sam mad at him? _ Maybe he was just tired. Lord knows he had left plenty of sessions overcome with exhaustion. 

 

He paced the bunker, checking to make sure everything was secure. Trying to silence the nagging thoughts in his head. The doubt. The regret. Maybe it was a mistake. All of it. He stopped in front of Sam’s door. He hesitated, his hand hanging in the air. He should knock. They could clear this all up. Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. But instead Dean kept walking, making his way back to his room. Back to the shelter of denial. 

 

He crashed on top of his bed, suddenly feeling exhausted. Overwhelmed. Alone. Alone, that was something he always felt. Something that was always there in the back of his head. He felt his eyelids getting heavy and felt himself sinking into the bed and into sleep. 

 

He had no idea how long he had been asleep when he heard knocking at his door. He blinked, yawned and tried to bring himself back to the present. He cleared his throat and tried to sit up. “Yeah?”

 

Sam’s voice answered just above a whisper. “Can I come in?” 

 

“Yeah.” He sat up as straight as possible and ran a hand through his hair. 

 

Sam walked in and glanced around the room and then looked at Dean for a moment. “Were you sleeping?”

 

He stifled a yawn and stood up. “What? No.”

 

Sam raised his eyebrow and Dean expected him to give him some shit. Maybe point out that there was drool in the corner of his mouth, but he said nothing. That silence stung in a way that he wasn’t quite prepared for. Sam reached into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope. Thee envelope. “I wanted...I didn’t want you think that I was…” He extended the envelope towards Dean. “Thank you for letting me read them.” 

 

Dean took the envelope. “Sam, I never meant to hurt you or...I only showed them to Donna because I was a chickenshit. And I didn’t know how to show them to you.” 

 

Sam looked down at his hands. “I know. And I’m sorry that I...I’m glad you have Donna.” 

 

“Thanks.” He tucked the envelope into his back pocket. He could choose an album cover later. 

 

Sam turned to leave. “You deserve to have more people on your side.” He shut the door behind him.  

 

Dean stood there, looking straight ahead for a few moments. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope. It had more creases in it. More curled up edges. Evidence of more people seeing his pain. Reading it. Knowing it. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled out the pieces of paper. He unfolded them slowly, smoothing out each page as carefully as he could. 

 

_ The loneliness gets to me sometimes, _

_ It’s like this weight on my head, _

_ My heart, _

_ My damn soul, _

_ I can be a smooth talker, _

_ I can be a charmer, _

_ But I can’t stop this pain inside, _

_ This fucking pain inside that feels like it’s going to swallow me alive. _

 

_ And I’m alone out here, _

_ Wanting something to cheer, _

_ Something to hold dear. _

_ Something other than blood, death and fear, _

_ I’m on the run, but I don’t know what I’m running from. _

 

_ Maybe I’m running to something,  _

_ God wouldn’t that be nice, _

_ Some solution, _

_ Some meaning to this crappy life, _

_ Some reason that I lost my mom, _

_ That my dad is drowning in death and taking us with him. _

 

_ I wish I could yell at him, _

_ I wish I could tell him that we’re kids, _

_ This isn’t what we deserve.  _

 

_ But I just pack up our things, _

_ Make sure Sammy has something to eat, _

_ And head out to the next town. _

  
  


_ I try to protect my brother, _

_ He never knew our mother, _

_ He never got to know what that was, _

_ He doesn’t deserve the hurt and pain of it all, _

_ I will carry that for him, _

_ For her. _

_ It’s the only thing I can do. _

 

_ But sometimes I lay in my motel room and dream of something bigger, _

_ Something brighter, _

_ Friends, _

_ Playing ball, _

_ Learning to ride a bike, _

_ Being normal, _

_ Being me.  _

 

_ I know I should get over that, _

_ These are the cards I was dealt, _

_ Grow up,  _

_ Be strong, _

_ Take care of everyone. _

 

_ Am I writing these right? _

_ I’m not always rhyming or knowing if what I’m saying makes sense. _

 

_ If my dad were to find these, _

_ Man,  _

_ I don’t want to go down that path, _

_ That train of thought. _

 

_ I wonder what mom would think, _

_ What she would say, _

_ If I could even write these words if things were reversed, _

_ Would we be okay, _

_ Healthy, _

_ Normal. _

 

_ I miss her, _

_ I miss our street, _

_ I miss my bed, _

_ My toys, _

_ My street, _

_ I miss everything. _

 

_ Sometimes I think about running away, _

_ I think about leaving them, _

_ It’s horrible, _

_ I would never do it, _

_ But I dream about it, _

_ I dream about it. _

 

_ I’m sorry, _

_ That’s all I can, _

_ I’m sorry. _

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading. <3 Right now it looks like this part will have two more chapters, but that could change.


	7. A Breather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean has to deal with Sam's reaction to the poems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, sometimes my muse takes over and takes a story in a direction I was never planning for it to go. That is the case with this chapter. This was not what I had mapped out, but it just felt like it fit. 
> 
> There is some talk about Hell and Purgatory. Lots of self worth stuff in here as well. I hope you guys like what I did here.

Sam may have given the poems back, but the tension hadn’t left the bunker. It had been three days of tension and little clipped conversations. Unfortunately there was no case or anything to try and distract them.  Three days of nothing really being said and Sam running lots of errands. Dean could feel him pulling away. Pulling away like he had before. He tried talking to him. Tried to joke around. Even pulled a prank or two. But nothing was working and he was starting to give up hope.

 

The fourth day approached and Dean was making himself a scrambled egg and toast. He hadn’t seen Sam yet that morning, but that wasn’t unusual. He tucked himself into his breakfast and was trying to distract himself with the paper when Cas came in. “Hello, Dean.”

 

He glanced up and gave him a smile, before returning to his paper. “Mornin’.”

 

Cas sat across from him and Dean could feel his eyes burning into him. He glanced up and saw the classic head tilt, the little sympathetic look and he steeled himself for whatever was about to come. “What’s up?”

 

He set a little folded up note on the table and for a brief moment Dean thought it was the envelope. He thought that Sam had shown Cas the poems or Cas had somehow just found them. And that he was angry too or just taking pity on him. But he reminded himself that they were safely tucked away. “What’s that?”

 

“A letter.”

 

He knitted his brow and tried to ignore the sudden flip-flop of his stomach. “You...you wrote me a letter?”

 

“No.” Cas tilted his head toward the letter, with a look of encouragement. “Sam left it for you before he left this morning.”

 

He felt his mouth go dry and his heartbeat race. He swallowed, crossed his arms and frowned. “He left?”

 

Cas nodded. “He wanted me to give you that.”

 

“Did he go into town or something?”

 

“I...he said that he was taking a vacation or something.”

 

Dean lifted his eyebrows. “A vacation?’

 

“Is that not the right-”

 

Dean returned to the paper trying to ignore his palms getting clammy and that damn floor of his world falling out. “I don’t want it.” 

 

“Dean-”

 

“I’m thinking of heading into town to see a movie.”

 

“I really think he wanted you to read the letter.”

 

“That new John Wick movie sounds like it could be fun.”

 

Cas pushed the letter toward Dean. “Dean-”

 

“Cas, I said no.” Dean pushed back his chair and took his dishes to the sink. He did nothing wrong this time. Nothing. Sam wanted to read those damn poems. 

 

“He wasn’t mad.”

 

He laughed. “What, just pouting in that classic Sammy way?” He rinsed off his dish and dried it off. 

 

“Just read the-”

 

Dean slammed the dish down, but surprisingly didn’t break it. “I don’t want to read it!”

 

He ran a hand through his hair. “I can tell you right now what that letter says. ‘Dear Dean, I just need some time away. I can’t do this. I need a normal life. I can’t handle this. Blag, blah, blah.’” He shut his eyes and ran a hand down his face. “I don’t need another letter or note or phone call like that.” He walked out of the room, leaving Cas staring at the letter on the table. 

 

He slammed his bedroom door and started pacing. Trying to run through all the conversations they had recently had. Trying to pick up on a hint that Sam was going to leave. He should’ve seen something. He was withdrawing from him. Giving him the silent treatment. Barely acknowledging anything. This wasn’t his fault. Sam wanted to read the poems. Donna had told him it was safe. Laura had encouraged him. Sam even thanked him. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t his fault.  _ Yeah, right. _

 

He stopped in the center of the room and looked around. He glanced at his records and landed on the  _ Beatles  _ album he had recently put the poems in. He figured it was safe to put it there now. Put it where a piece of their heart lie. He swallowed and pulled the album out. He gently removed the poems from within the cover and set them down on the desk. He never should’ve brought them. Never should’ve opened up that door. It had been shut tight for a reason. Dean grabbed the envelope, crumbled up the paper inside and threw them in the trash. That’s where they belonged. He fell back on the bed, closing his eyes and trying to calm his beating heart. 

 

* * *

 

The soft tap, tap on his door woke him up. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at his watch; twelve-thirty. Afternoon? Evening? The tapping on his door grew louder. Did he just take a nap again? There was the tapping again. “Dean?” Cas’ voice came through and shook him back to reality. Right, he had run out of the kitchen earlier. Sam was gone. 

 

He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

_ Was he okay? _ He shook his head and sat up. “Come in.”

 

Cas opened the door about an inch and looked in, trepidation on his face. Dean almost laughed. There was a time when personal space was a concept Cas had no familiarity with. “I made you a sandwich.” Dean tried not to cry. 

 

“Cas, you can come in.” Dean stood up and met Cas halfway. 

 

“It’s turkey and some cheese. I remembered you saying no to lettuce before, but I did put a tomato on it.” He held the offering out to Dean and gave a half smile. 

 

“Thanks, Cas.” He took the sandwich and his stomach growled. He was hungry. He took a healthy bite and gestured for Cas to sit down. He took a seat at Dean’s desk. “It’s a great sandwich.”

 

Cas gave him a pleased smile and watched Dean finish off half the sandwich. There was a time when those watchful eyes would’ve made him uncomfortable, but right now there was something overwhelmingly comfortable about it. “I’m sorry that I...I shouldn’t have walked out like that.”

 

“It’s okay, Dean.”

 

“No. It’s not. I just…” He set the rest of the sandwich down on the plate and wiped his hands on his jeans. “He does this sometimes and I...I didn’t think he would do it again. He said he was done with that.” 

 

“Dean, I...I really think you should read the letter.”

 

“Cas-”

 

“He said you wouldn’t want to, but that it was important.” Cas withdrew the letter from his coat pocket and set it on Dean’s desk. 

 

“Did you read it?”

 

“No. It’s private.” Cas stood up and walked to the door. He paused. “I’ll be here if you need to talk.” He left and closed the door behind him. Dean stared at the desk, the letter just sitting there. He shook his head and went back to his sandwich. He finished it off in three more bites and set the plate down next to the letter. He picked it up and stared at. He tried to will his hands to open the thing. Just read it. Maybe it really wasn’t as bad as he was thinking. Maybe it was nothing. He shook his head and set the letter back down. 

 

Dean picked up the  _ Beatles  _ album again and pulled out the record. He started swaying to the familiar words. The familiar rhythms. If he closed his eyes right now he could almost see her. Almost smell her shampoo. Hear her voice. Did Sammy remember that? Was there any part of him that could hear her voice too?

 

He glanced back at the letter and nodded his head. He could do this. He picked it up and took a deep breath. 

 

_ Dean, _

 

_ I know what you’re thinking right now, but I’m not leaving. I’m just...I just needed to get away for a bit. I will be back really soon. I took one of the old trucks in the garage and I made sure there was oil and that everything looked to be running okay. I know you’re going to be blaming yourself right now. I know you’re going to be going over things in your head and wondering what you did. You didn’t do anything, Dean. Nothing. I’m just taking a vacation. A breather. Maybe you should do the same. Go to the beach or just go to some concert.  _

 

_ The way I reacted after reading those poems was...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been angry at you, especially at your friendship with Donna. You deserve so much more than you think you do and I never should’ve tried to get in the way of that. I never should’ve done with that Benny. He was a good friend. A great friend. A better friend than I was. You are my hero and I’m selfish sometimes. You’re supposed to always put me above everything else. But that’s not healthy. That’s not good for either of us. So, I want to give you a break. A few days without having to worry about me. Or at least try not to.  _

 

_ I know it’s cowardly to leave a letter. Makes it seem like I’m ducking out on you, when that’s not what I’m trying to do here. I just knew if I tried to tell you in person I wouldn’t be able to get the words out.  _

 

_ I gave Cas the address of a place I’ll be at near Stanford. I looked up a couple of old friends down there and I’m gonna go catch up. But please, if anything urgent comes up or if you need me call me. I will hop on a plane, anything.  _

 

_ Those poems you wrote really were amazing. Yes, they were painful, but you are so talented. I had no idea and I wish I had tried to know more about you back then. More about who you were outside of my older brother. My surrogate father.  _

 

_ I’m so proud of you and I love you more than you know.  _

 

_ Your brother,  _

 

_ Sammy _

 

Dean wiped away a tear from his cheek and folder the letter back up. A vacation. That’s all it was. Just a break. Yeah, he could try and believe that. He’d be back. He could just pretend that no matter what, it was just a break. Just something normal families do. Yeah. He put the album away and went looking for Cas. 

 

Cas was sitting in the library, flipping through a paper. He looked up when he heard Dean. He cocked his head to the side and pulled out a seat for Dean. He sat down and smiled. “I um...don’t give me his number, okay? I mean not because I’m mad or...I just...is that okay?”

 

“Of course, Dean.” 

 

He smiled. “Thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome.” Cas folded up the paper and sat up straighter. “I’m not going anywhere.” Dean wanted to tell him that he didn’t need him. That he could make it without him. That he was free to go and do whatever he needed. Dean could be alone. But the words couldn’t come.

 

“You know I saw this documentary on Netflix that you might like. Something called More Than Honey. It’s about bees or I don’t know.” Dean saw Cas’s eyes light up. What was with it bees? “Do you wanna watch it?”

 

“I’d like that.” 

 

“Great.”

 

They set up a laptop in the library and Dean grabbed a couple of sodas without even thinking. Cas took the drink though and actually finished it without too much grimacing. Dean thought for sure he would fall asleep right there and even thought about making a pot of coffee, but much to his surprise he ended up enjoying it. He even asked question to Cas about the bees he had once followed. Yeah, it would be okay. He could be okay without Sam for a bit. It would be fine. 

 

* * *

 

Sam had been gone almost four days. Four days. He had called to let Dean know he made it safely to Stanford and not to worry. He assured him that he would be home in a week or so. It was just a vacation. Yeah, a vacation. Something normal people take. Sam encouraged him to maybe consider doing the same thing. Maybe he could go visit Donna. He said he would think about it, but he knew he wouldn’t do that. Didn’t want to burden her with his problems. Plus, she was busy. 

 

Cas had stuck around, even let Dean teach him how to hustle a little bit of pool. He was surprisingly good at it. But Dean couldn’t help but wonder if Cas was only sticking around out of a sense of duty. Would he really be there if Sam wasn’t gone? It was the morning of the fourth day, he had therapy that afternoon. How was he going to talk about this? Maybe he wouldn’t talk about it. She didn’t need to know. He could share whatever he wanted. 

 

Cas and Dean were sitting in the library. Dean searching the internet for anything that may need their attention while Cas scoured the local paper. “Cas, you don’t have to stay.”

 

He put the paper down and looked up at Dean, a slightly confused expression on his face. “Dean, I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.”

 

“I know man, but...I’m an adult. I can handle it.”

 

“Do you want me to leave?”

 

“What? No.” Dean closed the laptop. “This is your home. If you want it to be, I mean I know you said that...I just don’t want you to feel like...I know I’m not your charge or anything.”

 

“Dean, I’m not here because Sam asked me to.” Dean looked down. “I’m here because you’re my friend. Because this is my home. Because this is where I want to be.”

 

“Do you think he’s gonna come back?”

 

“Of course. He said it was just a vacation.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” He gave Cas a little smile and tried to shake the doubt. 

 

* * *

 

Therapy time. He wasn’t going to talk about Sam. He had decided that. There was no need. He was just on vacation. He’d be back soon. Just a week. Nothing to talk about. “How have you been, Dean?”

 

“Sam’s on vacation.”  _ What the hell? _

 

“For how long?”

 

“A week. No big deal.” He had to get out of this. “Anyway, I’m fine. I’ve been hanging with Cas. I taught him how to hustle pool. He’s pretty good. So, yeah, things are good.”  _ Real smooth, Dean. _

 

“Does Sam usually take vacations?”

 

“I don’t know. No. But it’s been slow and he just wanted to go visit friends at Stanford.” He licked his lips. “Anyway, Cas and I were watching this bee documentary the other day and I actually started thinking that being a beekeeper wouldn’t be that bad of a job.” 

 

“Do you want to talk about Sam?”

 

“I was talking about bees, doc. Keep up.”

 

“You want to talk about bees?”

 

“I don’t know. You said I could think about being other things. Maybe a beekeeper is the job for me.”

 

“How were things with you and Sam before he left?”

 

“Fine. Look, I don’t know why I even mentioned it. He’s just on a stupid vacation. People take those, right?”

 

“Right.”

 

“So, then why do we have to talk about this?”

 

“You’ve spent most of your life living with your brother.”

 

“He went to college and we were apart that one year when I thought that...and then there was the time he hit a dog.” She knitted her brow. “Not on purpose, he just...he met someone and I was...I was kind of lost.” He shook his head. This was going nowhere and he was saying too much. He had to steer the conversation back somehow. “So, how much do you think beekeepers make a year?”

 

“When you were here last it was with your brother?”

 

“You really don’t want to talk about bees, do you?”

 

“He was upset.”

 

“I used to feel the same way about bees. Cas was obsessed with them during this brief period of time right before we went to...before I was away and-”

 

“Dean.”

 

“He’s coming back. I know he is.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay? You don’t believe me?”

 

“I didn’t say that.”

 

“Because he is. Cas said so and he said so.”

 

“How were things when he left?”

 

“I already told you, they were fine.” She cocked her head to the side and gave him an almost pleading look. “Okay, fine, we weren’t really talking. But he said in the letter that he was just taking a break. That he’d be back. That it wasn’t because of me or...he’ll be back.”

 

“He left you a letter.”

 

“Yeah. He gave it to Cas before he left.”

 

“He didn’t tell you he was going beforehand?”

 

“No. But that’s okay.”

 

“How did that feel?”

 

“I told you, it’s okay.”

 

“Dean, how did it make you feel?”

 

“Pissed. Fucking pissed.” She nodded. “He does that.”

 

“You’ve mentioned that before.”

 

“And I mean we’ve all done that. I left not too long ago.”

 

“Have you spoken to him?”

 

“Yeah. He called when he got there. Said he’d be back in a week. Told me maybe I should take a vacation.”

 

“Maybe you should.”

 

“No. I can’t do that. I need to be there if something happens.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Work. That’s all. We can’t both be gone.”

 

“Are you scared he might not come back?”

 

“No. He said he would be back. I mean he does always come back. Or I go get him like I did when he was in college. He’ll come back.” Dean blinked back the stupid tears that were threatening to fall. “People leave. It’s what they do. But Sam comes back. Cas comes back too.”

 

“What if Sam didn’t come back?”

 

“That;s not possible.”

 

“What if it was?”

 

He felt his chest fall. Felt his stomach drop. “That can’t happen. I won’t let it.”

 

“Dean-”

 

Dean tried to catch up with his brain. Tried to stop all the words that kept spilling from him. But it was no use. “I’m fucked up. I know that. I’m hard to live with. I eat crappy food. I play the same songs over and over. I know why people leave me. I do. I don’t blame them. I’m poison.” 

 

“You are not poison.” 

 

“Then why does everybody around me either leave or die?”

 

“Cas is still there. Sam will be back.”

 

“But you said he might not.”

 

“No. I was just asking what you would do if he didn’t.”

 

“I’ve survived without him. I know that. And I know I could do it again. I just don’t want him to hate me.”

 

“He doesn’t hate you.”

 

“I wish I could believe that.”

 

They sat in silence for a few moments. Dean kept waiting for her to say something. Maybe push the Sam thing. The letter. Anything. He realized after another minute of silence that Laura was waiting for him to say something. He had gotten so used to her pushing him that he didn’t know what to do without that. Bees. He could just bring it back to bees. He shook his head. He was never watching another bee documentary again. “Does the silence mean I’m cured?”

 

She smiled. “There is no cure here, Dean.”  _ Great, another thing with no cure.  _ “There’s nothing you need to be cured of. You just need to heal.”

 

“What’s the difference?”

 

“The difference is that there is nothing wrong with you. You’re not defective.” If she only knew how wrong she was. If he told her everything she would surely think that was wrong. The urge to tell her kept rising up in him and he had to stop it. It would make it worse. She would lock him up. Or worse she’d run screaming. Maybe that would be a good thing. Maybe then he could stop this healing crap. He could go back to other, cheaper methods of coping. “Dean?” 

 

He shook his head, trying to bring himself back to the present moment. “Yeah?” He blinked. “Sorry.”

 

“What were you thinking about?”

 

“Just things...my past and…” He could just tell her one thing, right? Maybe seeing a ghost or…”I...I was in prison once.” He needed to stop this.  

 

“You were?”

 

He swallowed. “Um...yeah. A couple times.”

 

“For how long?”

 

“Well, the first time wasn’t...that was just...nothing. But there were two times when I really was in prison.” Words, just kept tumbling. He wondered if he would ever regain control of his brain. His mouth. 

 

“And the other times?”

 

He needed to stop this. “The second time was for four months. But it felt like forty years in solitary.” He crossed his arms. “And the third time was for roughly a year. But that prison wasn’t as bad as the second. I even got used to it.”

 

“Why were you in prison?”

 

He looked at her for a moment trying to see where her thoughts were. If she believed him. It wasn’t too far from reality. Hell probably was close to prison and Purgatory was...he could go with this. He could talk about certain things that he couldn’t before. “The four month one was because of a deal I made...a deal in exchange for someone else.” He wanted to leave Sam out of that one for now. Didn’t want to paint him as a criminal. 

 

“And the second?”

 

“I...I killed someone.” Her eyes widened for a split second and then she went back to that unfazed look he suspected she perfected in the mirror. “It was in self-defense.”  _ And he was an evil son of a bitch who was going to destroy the world _ . 

 

“When was this, Dean?”

 

“When I said I was lost. When Sam hit the dog with his car. That was when the second time happened.”

 

“Why didn’t you mention this before?”

 

“I was ashamed.” He shrugged. “You keep saying that I’m not defective.”

 

“Being to prison doesn’t automatically make you defective.”

 

“I don’t know about that. I had to do things to survive that-” He closed his eyes. Trying not to see the flashes of Hell. The burning flesh. The smell of absolute emptiness and desperation. Clear your mind of that. Just focus on Purgatory. Purgatory he could talk about. “I met Benny there.” 

 

“And that’s why Sam didn’t like him?” 

 

“He didn’t at first. Benny had been there for a lot longer than I had and...he was...Sam thought he was a bad guy.”

 

“But you didn’t.”

 

“I wouldn’t have survived if it hadn’t been for him. I never would’ve gotten out.”

 

“How did Benny die?”

 

“He…”  _ I cut his head off to save my brother. But he was a vampire and he was okay with it. He was one of the greatest friends I’ve ever had. _ “He was standing up for someone and he...he was murdered.”

 

“Dean, you’ve mentioned that Cas was there when you were lost.”  _ Shit.  _ He wanted to leave him out of that. 

 

“Yeah. He visited me a lot in there.” That could work.

 

He saw a question cross her face and saw the inner debate in her eyes about whether or not to ask it. “Did Sam?”

 

“He couldn’t. It wasn’t possible.”

 

“But Cas did.”

 

“Look. I didn’t want him to, okay.”

 

“Why?”

 

_ Because it was impossible. Because he didn’t even know where I was. Because he didn’t even bother looking for me.  _ “Because I didn’t want him to see me like that. Like a criminal.”

 

“But it was okay for Cas.”

 

“That was...um...Sam is my little brother. I’m supposed to be there and because of...I just didn’t want him to see me like that.” 

 

“Did he want to see you?”

 

“He couldn’t.”

 

“You’ve mentioned that he didn’t even try to find you when you were lost.” What could he do now? 

 

“I just meant that...it wasn’t his fault.” He shifted in his seat. This was getting out of his control. “Look, he was trying to get on with his life. It was what he was supposed to do.”

 

“Did it hurt?”

 

“He couldn’t come. So, what’s the point.”

 

“Dean.”

 

“Yes, okay, it hurt. But I understand. And I had Benny and Cas sometimes.”

 

“You must miss him.”

 

“Benny?” She nodded. “I had a dream about him awhile back. We were back there and he asked me to stay. I was actually tempted.”

 

“Why?”

 

“When I was there it was like...it was pure.”

 

She knitted her brow. “Pure?”

 

“I mean it was violent and mean. But it was also real. No bullshit.”

 

“And you miss it?”

 

“I know how messed up that sounds.”

 

“Not really. It happens sometimes. Sometimes people get so used to being there that they don’t know how to function outside of it.”

 

“Well, I’ve been out for a few years now.”

 

“You said the first time was harder?”

 

“Yeah. I didn’t have any friends that time.” He rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn’t talk to her about Hell. “I’m not ready to talk about that.” He hoped to God she wouldn’t choose this time to push it.

 

“Okay.” He felt the relief wash over him. “Have you tried writing about it? Either time.”

 

“No. I don’t know if I could.”

 

“You know what I’m going to say about that.”

 

“That I should try.” She smiled. “Do you...do you want me to stop coming here?”

 

“What? Why would I want that?”

 

“Because I’m not...because I did bad things.”

 

“It doesn’t make you a bad person.” He clasped his hands together and looked down. “Dean, it explains a lot.”

 

“It does?”

 

“Yeah.” She smiled. “That’s not a bad thing. I mean I am sorry that you had to experience that. But I’m glad you told me.”

 

He took a deep breath. “Me too.” 

 

* * *

 

A couple more days passed and Sam was still gone. The week was up, but he did say he would come home soon. Dean was still trying to believe that. Things were calm. Sometimes too calm for his liking. But he could try and survive it. He hadn’t tried to write about Benny or his time in Hell or Purgatory. He didn’t know if he could. His poems were still in the trash. Still crumbled up there. 

 

Dean sat down at his desk and glanced down at the trash can. He should take them out. He could throw them away later. Maybe somewhere safer. Somewhere where Cas couldn’t find them. He bent down and dug them out. He tried his best to smooth the papers and without thinking he put them inside his desk drawer. 

 

He walked over to his nightstand and opened up the drawer. His journal stared back up at him. Willing him to look away. It had been quite awhile since he had written anything. Without thinking he pulled it out, sat down, and began to write. 

 

_ February 17th, 2017 _

 

_ I told her about Purgatory and Hell at my last session. Well, not exactly. I called it prison. But I guess it was close to that. Two different kinds of prison. One I can’t talk about. One I sometimes want to go back to. How fucked up is that? I felt safe there, as weird as that is. Just surviving. Just being a hunter without having any other responsibility. Any other envy. Without judgment.  _

 

_ I miss Benny. I wonder if he’s there. If he’s okay. Or if they’ve destroyed him. I remember when there was a time when I thought that there was a firm line between hunters and the things they hunted. When there was human and non-human and that was it. No in between. Over the years that has been shattered, but never as completely as with Benny. I hope Benny has forgiven me. I hope he is still out there somewhere kicking ass. He sacrificed everything for us. He deserves to still be out there.  _

 

_ Sam’s been gone a week now. He said he’d try and leave Sunday and be back by Tuesday. I’m nervous. I want him to come back, but I’m worried. What if Sunday turns into Monday turns into a year? Worse yet, what if I like the break? I love my brother. I want my brother home. But I want to stop worrying about how every move I make affects him. That’s selfish, right? That’s not being the big brother I’m supposed to be, right? What would dad think right now? What would mom think? He’ll be home soon and everything will be okay. I really should throw those poems away.  _

 

_ Cas is still here. He doesn’t even seem to want to leave. I can’t understand that. When Sam was here I did, but I’m this...I hurt him and I hurt everyone. I don’t know why anyone would want to stick around. I’m trying here. I am. I know it doesn’t seem like it or sound like it. I am trying to be better about that. Trying to see value in me. Laura didn’t run when I said I killed a man. But what if she really knew? I can’t even go there. That’s not even a possibility unless I want to be shut into a white room. I just have to stick with the prison story. Stick with the lies. Always the lies. Too many lies. But this is for the best. Right? _

 

He shut the journal, ran his hand over the cover and looked up to the ceiling. Everything will be okay. It just has to be. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn't upset people with having Sam go away for a bit. It was the direction my muse took me and it just felt right for where it was at that point. Thanks again for reading and for the feedback. <3


	8. Topeka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam runs into delays on his way back from Stanford.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again my muse keeps taking this story in different directions from what I had mapped out. I hope you enjoy the direction I am taking it in. 
> 
> There is some talk about Hell in this chapter with some mentions of torture. It's not too graphic though.

Weather delayed Sam’s return. He called Sunday and said that there was a blizzard that had shut down parts of I-80. Dean knew there was an alternate route he could’ve taken, but he chose not to push it. Monday came and the blizzard delayed him another day. Dean had a feeling that even if the storm cleared Sam would still call with another delay. Maybe car trouble this time. A friend’s birthday he didn’t want to miss. Some odd case he had to assist with. 

 

Dean was sitting in the parking lot, waiting for his session with Laura. He had left the bunker three hours ahead of his session. Cas was starting to give him this look. A look he couldn’t handle right now. A look that confirmed every doubt Dean had, topped with a layer of pity. He lied and said he had to run a few errands before his appointment. He drove to a nearby dinner and ordered waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, side of bacon and two eggs over easy. He watched the customers come and go. The couples who had been married so long they had grown to look alike. The teenagers who were probably skipping school and sure to leave a dollar tip. People just living their lives. No idea what was really out there. No worry that they were failing their one job. A job they weren’t even sure they wanted anymore. 

 

He washed down his breakfast with a cup of coffee and left the waitress a twenty dollar tip. He’d gotten lucky again at pool and it would make up for the tips she was sure to be shorted today. He glanced at his phone. He just wanted to see the time. Didn’t need to check on anything else. No. Nothing else. He still had almost two hours till his appointment. He should’ve taken his time with his breakfast. Maybe brought a book to read or even his journal. He chuckled at that. Writing in public. Yeah, that’s something he was going to do. 

 

He drove around aimlessly. Up and down the same blocks. Listening to the classic rock station in town. Checking his phone every five minutes. Maybe it was a bad idea to head into town so early. He checked the gas gauge; half-empty. He could fill her up. He didn’t like to let her get to low. He pulled into a nearby gas station, inserted one of his many credit cards and watched the dollars rise. 

 

Gas tank full. An hour and a half till his appointment. Maybe he could go in early. Maybe she had some free time beforehand. He could save her an hour in the long run. But he couldn’t really think of a time when she didn’t have someone in there before him. It still felt weird sometimes to think that she had other patients. Other people with other problems. Maybe some worse than his. He wondered if she had a favorite. Did shrinks do that? Did she have a patient she dreaded? Was he ever that patient? Did she talk about him outside of his sessions? Tell her friends. Lovers. Neighbors about the weird guy with some odd job who was in prison. 

 

He sat in the parking lot with forty-five minutes to go. He scrolled through his phone, stopping on Sam’s name. He shook his head and scrolled back up. He stopped on Donna’s name. He hadn’t spoken to her in awhile. Did she miss him? He clicked on her name and held the phone up to his ear. After a few rings it went to voicemail. He hit end. No need to leave a message. He didn’t really have anything to say anyway. No need to bother her. 

 

Forty minutes. God, he hated being early. Why did he have to keep doing this? He turned the key to the accessories option and turned on the radio.  _ Too Much Time On My Hands  _ by  _ Styx _ played over the radio and he had to laugh at the irony. He turned it up a bit and tapped his hand along with song. 

 

He listened to five more songs and now he was down to a little less than twenty minutes. He could sit in the lobby for that amount of time. He made his way inside, making a quick stop at the restroom. There, that cut it down to almost fifteen. He could live with fifteen. He picked up one of the  _ Better Homes and Gardens _ that Sam liked to read when they were here. He thumbed through the pages, trying not to glance at the clock too much. He tried to decide which kitchens Sam had admired. What kind of tile would he want to decorate the kitchen with? Or maybe it was some other house he was decorating. Maybe someplace in Stanford. 

 

A couple minutes before his appointment, Laura’s office door opened and her last patient, that same sad girl, emerged. She said goodbye to her and then let Dean know she’d be with him in a minute. 

 

The minute passed and she gestured him inside. “How are you today, Dean?”

 

“Fine. Great.”

 

“That’s good.” She took out her notebook, opened to a page and clicked her pen. “Anything come up since I last saw you?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Any thoughts of harming yourself?”

 

“No.” He crossed his leg. “Do you really need to still ask that?”

 

“It is part of my check-in.”

 

“Yeah, but you said I was getting better. Or I should be getting by now, right? I haven’t even answered yes to it.”

 

She cocked her head to the side, like she was considering some option. Like she was trying to decide how important this part of her check-in was. “Tell ya what, I can leave a little print out that I used to leave for patients in the past. You would fill it out before the appointment. It has a little rating system on it to see how you’re doing.” She smiled. “How does that sound?”

 

“And you wouldn’t ask me again?”

 

“I would only ask you if you mentioned it on the sheet.”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s do that.”

 

“Okay. I’ll leave one in the lobby before your appointment next week.” She made a little note in her notebook. He felt a little bit of triumph. It was just a piece of paper and probably a silly thing to ask for and he’d have to get here early before each appointment from now on. But he had control. He had made a decision and someone listened to him. Respected him. 

 

She looked back up at him. “Has Sam come back?”

 

“No. There was a snowstorm. He should be heading back tomorrow.”

 

“Are you worried?”

 

“I would’ve been worried if he was driving in it.”

 

“No worry about whether or not he’ll come back?”

 

“He said he was coming back. He’ll come back.”

 

“It would be okay if you were worried.”

 

“I know, but I’m not.” 

 

“Have you thought about what it’s going to be like when he returns?”

 

“It was just a vacation.”

 

“Yes, but things were tense when he left.”

 

“Things’ll be fine. They always are.” 

 

“And if they aren’t?”

 

“Jesus, I thought you were supposed to give me hope.”

 

“I just want to make sure you are prepared for whatever might happen.”

 

“Yeah, well I am because nothing will happen.”

 

“Okay.” 

 

He swallowed. “Cas keeps giving me this look.”

 

“What kind of look?”

 

“This pity look. Like he thinks Sam is gone for good. Like he’s waiting for me to fall apart.”

 

“Have you asked him about it?”

 

He scoffed. “No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because I don’t want to...I don’t want him to pity me.”

 

“Maybe it’s not pity. Maybe it’s just concern.”

 

“Yeah, well it feels like pity.”

 

“Dean, do you think he respects you?”

 

“He thinks I’m strong or whatever.”

 

“But does he respect you?”

 

“I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about that.”

 

“What do you think?”

 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like...like I’m a child or something. Like they want me to solve their problems, but they don’t trust me to tie my own shoe.”

 

“You don’t think they respect you.”

 

He looked down. “I guess not.”

 

“I respect you.” He felt a little smile creep across his face that he tried to hide. He already knew it anyway, but the confirmation was nice. “I think they respect you, but maybe they don’t always know how to show it.”

 

“Cas says he’s stayed because it’s his home too, but sometimes I feel like he’s babysitting me and I’m almost forty years old.”

 

“You should talk to him about that.”

 

“I don’t-” He shifted in his seat. “Can we talk about something else now?” She got that look on her face. That look that said she was going to push it. “I just don’t have anything else to say about it right now.” Somehow that worked, but when her next question came he decided that he had made a mistake ducking it. 

 

“Did you write about your time in prison?”

 

Prison. Hell. Purgatory. That was now going to be a thing here. “I did write a little bit. I mean it wasn’t much and it was mainly just talking about talking about it.”

 

“How did it feel?”

 

“Okay. I mean it wasn’t much, so it was fine.”

 

“How did it feel telling me?”

 

He took a deep breath. “Scary.” 

 

“What was scary about it?”

 

“Seriously?” She nodded. “Well, people don’t always react well when you tell them you’ve been in prison.”

 

“Is that why you asked me if I still wanted you to come here?”

 

He nodded. “I don’t want you to...I don’t you to stop respecting me.”

 

“You survived and you’re stronger because of it.” He didn’t know about that. “And you’re compassionate. That earns respect in my book.”

 

He smiled. “I do like the fact that I can start talking about stuff I couldn’t before.”

 

“I bet that was a relief.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Do you want to talk about it anymore today?”

 

“If I say no are you going to push it?”

 

“No. Not yet.”

 

He thought for a minute. There was more he could talk about now with this prison story out there. But did he really want to do that? Where would he even began? “I’ve only ever talked about the first time with Sam.”

 

“And how did that go?”

 

“Okay. But-” He looked away. “It was so long ago. It shouldn’t bother me anymore.”

 

“Dean, there is no time limit on how long things affect you. That was a traumatic experience. It doesn’t just go away overnight.”

 

“God, it was almost eight years ago.” He crossed his arms tightly, trying to protect himself somehow. “But I can still hear the clanking sounds. Smell the...smell the pain. Feel the heat. It was always hot and yet so cold. Almost freezing. It was just a void.”

 

“Did you make any friends the first time?”

 

“No. I was alone. Completely alone.” He swallowed. “I would see people. Hear them. But I never...I never really felt them. I could touch and there would be nothing real. Nothing but pain. Nothing.” He briefly wondered if this really fit with prison. If this would make any sense. But he guessed he could chalk it up to his own interpretation. His own impressions. “My lips were always dry.” He let out a humorless laugh. “I’ve never really been a chapstick person, but I craved it there. Something to make them better. But sometimes it was a nice distraction. The cracks in them. The way they felt on my tongue. It helped me to forget how dark everything else was for just a fleeting second.” He took a breath and almost smelled the burnt flesh. Almost heard the screams from his soul. From others. Heard the laughing from the demons. From the people torturing him. He wouldn’t allow himself to go past those thirty years. Past the point of no return. It was better to remember just the torture. Better to not remember the time he turned. The time he couldn’t take anymore. 

 

“Dean?” He shook his head and blinked. He was in Laura’s office. That’s right. “Are you okay?”

 

His swallowed. “Can we...I don’t think I can talk about this anymore.”

 

“Okay. Like I said, I won’t push it for now.”

 

“Do you really think that...I mean do you think that...I feel like I’ve been runnin’ from that time for so long now. Trying to make up for what I did there. And it just feels like I get nowhere. Like people have forgotten. Which I guess should be okay. But sometimes I…” He bit his lip and looked down at his hands. “I want someone to say that it’s okay. That what I did is forgiven.” 

 

“Have you forgiven yourself?”

 

“I don’t even know how to began.”

 

“Talking about it is a step. Writing about it. Accepting it.”

 

He shut his eyes. “I want to stop.”

 

“Okay. Do you need some water?”

 

“Yes.” She handed him a bottle of water and he took a long drink, letting a few droplets rest on his lips. His tongue darted out and licked the droplets away. 

 

“Better?” He nodded. “Have you done anything for fun lately?”

 

“I played pool and watched a few movies with Cas.”

 

“How about something else? Something that you wouldn’t normally get a chance to do.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“What would you like to do?”

 

“I don’t know. I’d say maybe catch a game, but it’s late for that. Maybe go to a concert. I don’t know.”

 

“Okay. I want you to do that.”

 

“Go to a concert?”

 

“Yes. Go have some fun. Just for yourself.”

 

“So by myself?”

 

“Or with someone. You deserve to have some fun, Dean. You deserve a break.”

 

“But what if-”

 

“Sam will be fine. Cas will be fine.” He glanced toward the door. Not sure why he was so uncomfortable with this. “I can write a prescription for you.”

 

“I thought you couldn’t-” She raised her eyebrows. “Oh. Okay. I mean I don’t need a note or whatever.”

 

Remember that you’re human. You’re not a robot. You need time to have fun. To just be yourself without worrying how it will affect others.” 

 

“That’s a hard thing to do in my life.”

 

“Sam did it. You can do it.”

 

He took a deep breath. “Yeah. Maybe.” He gave a quick smile and tried to imagine what that would look like. Just to think about himself for a night. Just to be.

 

That night he went home and found himself looking up nearby concerts on his laptop. Not that he was really ever going to go. But it was nice to dream.

 

* * *

 

Tuesday morning came and the ring of his cell phone alerted him to what he already was prepared for. He didn’t even have to look at the ID to know who it was. He prepared himself for another delay. For another shut down of the highway. Maybe it would be a flood this time. “Hey, Sam.” Turned out the snow storm had finally let up a bit, but he thought it might be a good idea to stay another day. Just to be on the safe side. “Why not make it another week?”

 

“Dean, come on.”

 

“You know what, it’s fine. I’m gonna be heading out of town myself.”

 

“Really?” There was this hopeful tone in his voice that was like a little pin prick to Dean’s heart.

 

“Yeah. Just going to Topeka. There’s um...there’s a Styx concert in a couple days, so…” 

 

“Styx? They still tour?”

 

“Shutup.” He felt himself smile at the slight banter. It was nice for the moment it lasted. “So, tomorrow you head out then?”

 

There was silence and he could almost see the hesitation on Sam’s face. “If the weather is better.”

 

_ If the weather is better.  _ He shook his head. “Well, drive safe Sammy.”

 

He hung up the phone and ran his hand over his mouth. Another day. He opened up the laptop and googled weather for the Reno area. It was true, there was a nasty blizzard and yes portions of I-80 had been shut down. He checked radar and it looked like the storm was clearing out, only a couple more inches forecast to fall. Sam should be able to make it tomorrow. Really, he should be able to make it out today. But he would let that slide for now. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. Maybe he should go to that concert. Maybe he should take a few days off. He went back to the laptop and looked up tickets. 

 

The concert was Friday night. It was about a three hour drive to Topeka and Dean decided he’d make a night of it. Stay in some four star, or two star hotel. Live it up. Yeah, Topeka was the way to live it up. He thought about asking Cas if he wanted to come or asking Donna, but he decided not to. Cas seemed concerned at first. Saying he could go and make sure everything was okay. Dean told him he was off of babysitting duty, which thoroughly confused him, but he finally let it go. “Go nuts, Cas. Have a wild rager. The place is yours.”

 

“A rager?”

 

“Nevermind. Just think of it as a break.”

 

He expected some push back. Assurance that he didn’t need a break. That being with Dean wasn’t some duty. “Are you sure, Dean?”

 

He tried not to feel another pin prick in his heart. “Yes. Besides, it was an order from my therapist.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his feet. He was nearly forty years old and felt like he needed permission to go three hours from home. But it seemed to satisfy Cas and put his mind at ease. 

 

“What about Sam?”

 

Dean shrugged. “He’s supposed to be heading out tomorrow, but who knows. It’ll be fine, Cas.”

 

Wednesday came and Sam actually said he was leaving Stanford Thursday morning no matter what. He would be back late Friday afternoon. He didn’t want to drive straight through. Dean felt a tightening in his chest and a little panic. He wanted Sam to come back, but he’d gotten so used to the delays that he almost...no, it was a good thing. He considered cancelling the concert. But Sam told him he’d be so beat by the time he got back he’d probably be passed out till the next day anyway. He agreed to go to the concert and told him he’d see him Saturday when he returned. Just a few more days and his family would be home. 

 

* * *

 

Friday came and Dean was seriously debating about whether or not to go. He packed a duffel and unpacked a duffel about five times. He got a text mid-morning from Sam saying he had gotten a late start that morning and was just leaving Salt Lake. He wouldn’t even get in till well after Dean was gone. Yeah, he’d just be asleep the whole time. It would be okay for Dean to leave. He sent Sam a quick text with the motel and concert info and said he would be back early Saturday night. He said goodbye to Cas and let him know to call him if anything in their wheelhouse happened. Anything at all. He promised he would and Dean made the three hour drive in Baby. 

 

He arrived in Topeka around five. The concert started at seven. Dean checked himself into the  _ Traveler’s Inn.  _ It was a little dirty, but not nearly as bad as some of the places he had stayed in before and at thirty-nine a night he couldn't beat it. The clerk at the front desk let him know that he could get a good burger at  _ Larry’s Shortstop _ . It was within walking distance, so he left his car at the motel and hoofed it. They weren’t wrong, the cheeseburger was the right amount of grease to satisfy. 

 

The concert was packed. He had no idea there really were that many  _ Styx _ fans left out there. He would never tell Sam that. His seat was about halfway from the stage, dead center. Around him were men in their mid to late forties, some in their fifties. All of them nursing beers and singing along to every song that played. God, he wanted a beer. Maybe this was a bad idea.

 

“I think we’re the youngest people here.” He glanced to his right. A woman in her mid-thirties, long brown hair and a killer smile, was standing next to him.

 

He stared at her for a moment, her brown eyes were sparkling. He shook his head and brought himself back to the present. “Yeah. I honestly had no idea so many people would even be here.”

 

“Let me guess, you were laughed at for coming here too?”

 

“Sort of.” 

 

“Screw ‘em, right?”

 

“Right.” 

 

She held out her hand. “Abby.”

 

“Dean.”

 

She smiled and turned back toward the stage. He watched her singing along to the music, her hips swaying. Totally free. 

 

Ten songs later and Dean was drenched in sweat, voice cracking and feet aching. But it was worth it. Abby had been dancing the whole time as well, strands of her hair sticking to her forehead and Dean had to fight the urge to push them away. She leaned over and he could smell her shampoo and he resisted the urge to inhale. “I’m thirsty. Do you want something?”

 

_ A beer or two. Maybe some whiskey. _ “Um...water, but I-” She held up her hand and shook her head as she walked toward the concession stand. He watched her leave and then turned his attention back to the stage. He realized he hadn’t checked to see if Sam had gotten in. He hadn’t even thought about it. He felt a little wave of guilt. What if something had happened? What if Sam was stranded and Cas had been trying to reach him? He took his phone out and looked down. One text message from Sam.

 

“Made it. See u tomorrow.”

 

Short and sweet. Simple. Everything was okay. 

 

“Hey, you okay?” Abby touched his his arm and he smiled at her. 

 

“Yeah. Fine.” She smiled and handed him a bottle of water. He expected her to be carrying a beer for herself. Maybe even a shot. Instead she had two other bottles of water. He downed half the bottle and then returned to enjoying the concert. 

 

* * *

 

The audience cheered as  _ Styx _ finished off their encore and said goodnight. The lights came up in the auditorium and people started making their way outside. Dean turned to Abby and saw how truly beautiful she was. Sure her makeup was a little eskew from the sweat and her hair was a matted mess, but she had this light about her that took his breath away. A few months ago he may have tried to figure out the best way to get her into bed. Enjoy a true night of escape. Of pleasure where there was none of the pain that was always there. He’d leave the next day, satisfied, yet alone. Wanting more, but not knowing how to get that. What to say. 

 

He must have been staring, because she crossed her arms across her chest and smirked. He blushed and looked down. “Sorry. I just-” 

 

“It’s okay.” She bit her lip. “So, do you live near here or something?”

 

This was his opening. He could make his move. Take her back to his dingy motel room or follow her to her place. “No. Just drove up for the concert.” He rubbed the back of his neck. 

 

She rocked back on her heels. “I live close.” She touched his arm and gave him a smile. He could do this. He’d done this plenty of times before. The intimacy he was afforded. The only intimacy he could allow. Laura did say that he should have some fun and he was sure they could have fun together. He had been silent so long that he saw her smile fade and she slowly withdrew her hand. She glanced down at the floor, a slight blush on her cheek. “Sorry, I just thought that-”

 

He took her hand and she looked up, a little more hope. “I’d like that.” She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. It was almost too sweet. Too chaste for what he suspected they were going to do. And he felt it. That tug at his heart. He really just wanted to take her out for burgers or just to talk. Maybe a kiss. She took his hand and led him from the auditorium. 

 

Dean followed her in his car and there were a million chances for him to leave. He could just take an exit, she would never know. It would be for the best. She pulled up in front of a small, one story brick house. The lawn brown and dead from winter. A lawn chair sitting on the tiny porch. He sat in the car just staring. Trying to imagine what her life was like. How often she sat in that chair dreaming of something bigger. Something better. Or maybe this was her dream. A little brick house with a dead lawn in Topeka, Kansas. 

 

She stood beside his car and leaned down. “Are you coming in?” 

“Yeah.” He got out and followed her inside. The interior was small, but had a nice lived in feeling. Not messy or cluttered, but welcoming. The bark of a dog made him jump slightly. 

 

“Sorry. I should have told you. I have a dog.” She looked around like she was trying to figure out the most comfortable spot for him. She gestured toward the couch. “I’m gonna go and let him out of his kennel.” She started to walk toward the back of his house. “He’s super friendly. I promise.”

 

He took a seat.  _ Great, a dog. _ Truth was, he actually kind of liked dogs. Especially since that time when he could communicate with them. When he felt like one of them. It was just they got his car messy and they were another innocent thing that left way too early. 

 

“Chester, wait!” A giant white ball of fur came flying into the room and jumped up onto the couch and on Dean’s lap. The dog started licking his face. He should be annoyed, but he just started laughing. Abby ran over and grabbed the dog’s collar, pulling him off his lap. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s okay.”

 

Chester was trying to get back to Dean, Abby trying her hardest to hold him back. “He’s not much of a watch dog.”

 

“You can let him go.”

 

“Are you sure?” Dean nodded and she hesitated for a second before releasing his collar. Chester jumped back up on the couch and his front half landed on Dean’s lap. He gave Dean another kiss, before settling down and putting his head in his lap. It was without a doubt one of the sweetest things that had ever happened to him. But he would never tell anyone. Chester nudged Dean’s hand and he placed his hand on the dog’s fur and started petting him. It felt amazing. Yeah, definitely never telling anyone.

 

“What kind of dog is he?”

 

“Great Pyrenees mix, but really he’s just a mutt.”

 

Chester looked up at Dean at the word mutt like it offended him. He looked at Chester and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.” 

 

Abby sat on the other end of the couch, watching them. “You’re really a dog person.”

 

He chuckled. “Not really.” Her mouth opened and she looked a little embarrassed. “I mean I just...I was always afraid to have one.”

 

“Why?”

 

He shrugged. “They leave too soon and I travel too much. I didn’t want to drag an innocent dog into that.”

 

“I couldn’t imagine my life without him.”

 

Dean scratched behind Chester’s ear. “He’s pretty cool.” It was nice, just sitting there with a dog on his lap. That was something he never thought he would say. He could used to this. Too used to it. 

 

Abby shifted in her seat and gave the dog a little pat. “Chester, you wanna go outside?” The dog leapt up and he tried not to reach out to make the dog stay. “I’ll be right back.” He nodded and watched as she led the dog outside. 

 

She returned a moment later and sat back down. “I bet you didn’t think you’d be getting a dog in your lap when you agreed to come over here.”

 

“I’ve gotten weirder.”

 

She laughed and moved closer on the couch to him. “I don’t normally do this.”

 

“I’m not judging. Trust me.” She smiled and leaned forward and kissed him. Her hand on his thigh. Her lips parted, inviting his tongue inside. She inched closer and closer until she was straddling his lap. She pulled back and smiled at him. She started kissing down on his neck, along his jawline. He held on to her hips. There was a scratch at the back door and he almost threw her off, ready to fight whatever evil might be trying to get at them. 

 

She sighed and rested her forehead on his. “Chester.” She swung her legs off of him and went to let the dog in. He heard a door close and a soft whine of protest. After a moment she returned. “Sorry about that. I put him in the bedroom”

 

“You don’t have to put him away.” 

 

She smiled and straddled his lap. “Trust me, he would get in the way.” She leaned down and started kissing him again. She started tugging on his flannel. He pulled away for a minute and pulled the flannel and undershirt off. She ran her hand down his chest, stopping at a couple of scars. He tried to come up with a story if she were to ask about them. Instead she leaned forward and peppered kisses down his chest to his stomach and then back up again. 

 

“Should we go to your bedroom.”

 

“Chester’s in there.”

 

“Oh. Right” She pulled back and pulled her shirt off, revealing a little black bra. Dean reached his hand out and ran it down her to her stomach. She felt so soft. No scars. Nothing. Just perfect skin. Beauty. He swallowed and pulled her forward, resting his head on her chest. He listened to her heart beat. Inhaled her sweet scent. Shampoo and some flowery perfume. He could sleep her. He could just wrap himself up in this. 

 

He didn’t even realize what was happening until he felt her fingers in his hair. “Are you okay?” He was shaking. He could feel that now and he felt something wet on his cheek. He was sobbing. He should leave. Pull away. She didn’t need this. She didn’t even know him. Instead he wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her as close as possible. She held him and kissed the top of his head. “I’m sorry.” She held him as he continued to cry.

 

* * *

 

Dean opened his eyes and was met with the smiling face of Chester. The dog gave him a quick kiss and dog breath definitely was the worse than morning breath. “Chester, off.” The dog walked away and Abby set a coffee cup down in front of him. Abby. That’s right. He had stayed here last night. After he had finished crying, they had stayed up late talking. Talking about everything, well as much as he could tell her. He talked about losing his mom and his dad. She told him about losing her fiance a month before their wedding. They just talked. No kissing. No sex. Just words. 

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

He sat up and took a sip of coffee. “Good. Better.” He set the coffee cup down. “I’m sorry about last night and-”

 

She held her hand up. “Nothing to apologize for. It was nice. I mean, you know.”

 

“Yeah. Thanks.” 

 

He left an hour later. He had to make the drive back and still had to check out of the motel he never slept in. She gave him her number, but he could tell she didn’t believe he would call. She gave him a quick kiss on the lips and told him to stop apologizing so much. He gave Chester a quick pet goodbye and headed back home. Back to his real life. Back to Sam and Cas. Back to his job. His duty. His family. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I firmly believe that Dean doesn't hate dogs and would benefit greatly from them. I know being around dogs and volunteering at an animal shelter has saved me. I highly recommend anything like that as a form of therapy. It does wonders. And dogs are just a gift to this world. 
> 
> Also, Styx is coming to concert in Topeka, but I just moved the date up a bit. And if you ever get a chance to see them in concert, go. They are awesome! I have no idea if there actually is a snow storm right now. Just made that part up.


	9. Returning Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean deals with Sam's return from Stanford

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shorter chapter, sorry for that. I will try and update again really soon. Thank you again for reading and for all the wonderful feedback. <3

The last ten minutes of the drive back home had his stomach in knots. He wanted to go home. Of course he did. There would be no reason not to want that. His night with Abby, Chester and  _ Styx  _ was a nice distraction, but that’s all it was. Just a distraction. Just a little break. This was reality. Hunting. Looking after Sammy. Trying to kill as many evil sons of bitches as he could. He turned up the radio and took a couple of deep breaths. He was going home. Home.

 

He pulled into the garage and looked around. There was the truck. Sammy really was back. He wasn’t sure why expected it to be gone. Expected him to have left again. Did Sam look for the Impala when he got back? Did he even miss it? 

 

He walked in and was greeted by the sound of laughter. Sam’s laughter and yep, even Cas’. Life goes on. He plastered on a smile, stood up straighter and turned the corner. “What’s so funny?”

 

Sam and Cas turned to look at him, their laughter instantly dying. There were those little pin pricks to his heart. He wondered how many of those he could take before there would be a hole there. Sam got up and made his way to him, his arms stretched out. They hugged and Dean wanted to hold on for dear life. “Welcome back, Dean.”

 

“I should be saying that to you.” Dean glanced toward Cas. “Hey, Cas.”

 

“Hello, Dean.”

 

“So, how was the concert?”

 

He smiled to himself, remembering the music. The feel of Chester’s fur under his fingers. The warmth of Abby’s embrace. “It was awesome.” He crossed his arms. “And Stanford?”

 

Sam rubbed the back of his neck and looked down. “It was good.” He was hiding something. The tell tale signs of a lie were there. He couldn’t push that right now. He didn’t have the energy.

 

“Well, I’ve been driving all day and barely got any sleep.” He pointed toward the hallway. “I think I’ll hit the hay.” He turned to walk away.

 

“It’s good to see you, Dean.”

 

“You too.” He headed to his room. 

 

They didn’t talk about Stanford again. It was like this little blip that didn’t happen. Dean had tried to bring it up, but Sam would always brush it off. Not wanting to go into it further. He considered asking him if there was something that had pushed him to leave, but he dreaded hearing the answer. So they went back to normal. Back to searching for cases. Back to life in the bunker. Back to being Sam and Dean Winchester. But one thing had changed. Sam was sneaking off to make phone calls. 

Monday had come again. Therapy day. He should change it on all the calendars. He arrived five minutes early and the check-in sheet was sitting on a clipboard on top of one of the  _ Better Homes and Gardens _ . He wondered if it had been sitting there all day, just waiting for him to arrive. If other patients had come and gone wondering what the clipboard was for. Who needed it. Who was the one who needed to rate their suicidal thoughts on a scale from 1 - 10. 

 

He took a seat and picked up the board, glancing down the page. Ten questions. Jesus, he thought this would make it easier. The questions ranged from “Rate your restful sleep.” to “Do you have the urge to hurt yourself or others?” How do you answer a question like that when you’re a hunter. He’d been able to answer it in therapy, but he’d never had to rate it on a scale before. He decided to go with a three; not too dangerous, but still realistic. Right?

 

“Dean?” He glanced over and saw Laura standing in the doorway to her office, sanse the usual sad girl. He wanted to ask her about that. Had she quit? Did she walk by and he didn’t notice? Did she answer ten to one of these questions? He smiled and followed her into her office, the clipboard under his arm. 

 

He sat down on the couch and she reached her hand out. “I can take that.” Right. She was supposed to look at this. He didn’t know why he was afraid to give it back. He hadn’t answered ten on any of them. Not even the sleep one. He stared down at the piece of paper, trying to scan his answers. Trying to make sure they were all correct. “Dean?” 

 

“Right, sorry.” He handed her the paper and hoped he wasn’t going to be sent away. 

 

She glanced over the paper, her head nodding every once in awhile. He must’ve gotten it right. She placed the board on her desk and smiled. “How have you been?”

 

“Didn’t the questionnaire answer that?”

 

“Outside of that.”

 

“Fine. Sam’s back.”

 

“Yeah? How does that feel?”

 

He shrugged. “Fine. Like he never left.”

 

“How long has he been back?”

 

“A couple days now.”

 

“Have you guys talked about his trip?”

 

“Nope. Not at all.”

 

“Does that bother you?”

 

“Why should it? He went on a vacation.Took a break and now he’s back.”

 

“Did you talk about the letter? About how he left?”

 

“There’s nothing to talk about. He’s back and everything is just-”  _ Fine _ . He should say that. That’s what it’s supposed to be.

 

“What is it?”

 

“When I walked in him and Cas were laughing.”

 

“Is that unusual?”

 

“Cas isn’t really...I rarely him laugh and-” He shook his head. “You know what, it’s stupid.”

 

“Why is it stupid?”

 

“Nothing, just they stopped. The second I walked in, they stopped laughing.”

 

“And that bothers you.”

 

“Yeah. Stupid, right?”

 

“Your feelings aren’t stupid. Can you pinpoint why it bothered you?”

 

“It was like life had gone on without me. Like life was easier somehow. Like their joy stopped when I came back.”

 

“When Sam was gone how was it with you and Cas?”

 

“Fine. I mean we didn’t laugh like crazy or anything, but it was fine.”

 

“He was your friend first, right?”

 

“Look, I’m not jealous or anything.”

 

“I didn’t say you were.”

 

“Cas always said that we had a more profound bond, or whatever.”

 

“And are you worried that he no longer thinks that?”

 

“Look, I know that he...he’s my best friend. I just...sometimes he looks at me like I’m this fragile thing that will break if he says the wrong thing. He never really looks at Sam like that.”

 

“He cares about you.”

 

“I know, but I wish he...I wish he could stop looking at me like that.”

 

“You said that after the group therapy session you guys did here that you would have little mini sessions.”

 

“That was a long time ago.”

 

“Who stopped them?”

 

“No one. They just...they just kind of stopped.”

 

“Maybe you should bring them up again, but maybe end them with something fun. Something where you can just be friends hanging out.”

 

“Yeah, maybe.” He looked down at his hands. “I...I went to a concert.”

 

“That’s great. Was it fun?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Who’d you see?”

 

“Styx.” She got an amused look on her face and he was prepared for teasing. “Hey, they’re still cool.”

 

“You don’t have to tell me. They were the first concert I ever saw.”

 

“Seriously?” She nodded. He tried to picture her singing all the words to  _ Renegade _ or maybe  _ Come Sail Away _ was more her speed. “At first it was weird to be there alone. Almost everyone around me was drinking. I didn’t drink though.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

He nodded. “Yeah and then I...I um...I kind of met someone.” He licked his lips. “She was there also there alone.”

 

“What was her name?”

 

“Abby.” The corners of his mouth turned up in a soft smile. “I remember I just kept thinking how free she seemed. I envied that.” He took a deep breath. “I went back to her place after the concert. But I didn’t...I didn’t sleep with her.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I mean you know I wanted to. Or at least I told myself I did. She was gorgeous and she smelled like...I don’t know. Comfort. But I just couldn’t.”

 

“Why?”

 

“We were kissing, making out, and we...I just started crying.”

 

“What did she do?”

 

“She held me. She just held me.” He sat up straighter. “We stayed up talking. Laughing. And we never kissed again.”

 

“How was it?”

 

“Comforting. Normal. Nice.”

 

“I’m proud of you for opening up to someone. That’s not easy to do.”

 

“I didn’t tell her everything. I didn’t tell her about prison.”

 

“That’s okay. That’s not something you have to tell someone right away. Have you called her since then?”

 

“No. She lives in Topeka.”

 

“That’s not that far away.”

 

“She’s normal, okay. She has this little house, with a dead lawn and a dead fiance and I can’t...it wouldn’t be right.”

 

“It wouldn’t be right to call her?”

 

“It wouldn’t be right to drag her into my life. I did that once before, I can’t do that again.”

 

“Dean, no one is saying you have to marry this woman. It’s just a phone call.”

 

He glanced toward the window. “She has this dog. This huge white ball of fur named Chester. He jumped up on my lap when I got there and...I’ve never really thought of myself as a dog person. They’re too messy and they...they leave before you. But petting him…” He shook his head. “There was something so comforting about it.”

 

“Dogs can be very therapeutic.” She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “You know, you mentioned dogs during one of our first sessions.”

 

“I did?”

 

“Yeah. When you were describing another life.”

 

“Oh. Well, that was just fantasy.”

 

“Maybe you should get a dog.”

 

He laughed. “You’re joking, right?” She shook her head. “I can’t get a dog. We don’t have a yard and we’re gone a lot.”

 

“They have people that watch them.”   
  


That would mean strangers in the bunker. No. “You mean have some stranger stay in our house?”

 

“Or you can take them to a doggy daycare or board them somewhere.”

 

“That wouldn’t be fair to the dog.”

 

“Or maybe you could take it with you.”

 

He scoffed. “Okay, now I know you’re not serious.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because we...we travel and stay in motels and...it wouldn’t be...it just wouldn’t make sense.” 

 

“Dean, do you realize that since you’ve been coming here there have been many weeks, even a month or two, when you didn’t go out of town. When you weren’t traveling.”

 

“That could change at any minute.”

 

“But maybe it doesn’t have to.”

 

He didn’t want to continue this conversation. It was pointless. They could never get a dog. Sam would think he was crazy and would get mad that they hadn’t before. But above all the little ray of hope at the idea needed to stop before it crushed him. “I’m not gonna get a dog, ok?”

 

“Okay. I’ll drop it.” She glanced at her notebook. “For now.” And he could have sworn he saw a little smirk on her face. “But I do think you should call Abby again.”

 

“I think it’d be better if I just erased her number.”

 

“Dean, just because your life hasn’t been quote unquote normal, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve happiness.”

 

“It ended badly the last time I tried that.”

 

“It doesn’t always have to.”

 

“It was nice to just talk to someone. Like a friend who didn’t have pre-judgments. Someone who only knew me as Dean and not a brother or caretaker or felon.”

 

“I’m glad you got to have that. Because you are more than those things.”

 

He pursed his lips. “I think Sam’s hiding things from me.”

 

She didn’t even blink at the change of topic. “Why do you say that?”

 

“I’ve overheard him a couple of times on the phone. Hushed conversations and he won’t even talk about Stanford.”

 

“I thought you said that was okay?”

 

“It worries me. I think he’s getting ready to leave.” He’d been thinking it. Trying not to, but the thought had been scratching away at his brain. Just hanging there. Just itching to get free.

 

“You think he’s getting ready to leave you?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And if he does?”

 

“Then it’s up to me again.”

 

“What’s up to you?”

 

“Making sure that others…”  _ don’t die. That the world doesn’t end. _ “Making sure that our jobs stay in place. That we carry on the family legacy.”

 

“Maybe you don’t have to.”

 

“We’ve already been over this.”

 

“I know. But I want you to really think about that. Maybe you can do something else.”

 

“I don’t know if I want to. I mean I’ve been feeling that pull to do something else, but I don’t know if I can survive that.”  _ Or if others can. _

 

“Why does that burden have to fall on you? Why does Sam get to leave?”

 

“He’s younger. I had a brief childhood.”

 

“You were four. You had no childhood. If Sam is allowed to leave, you are too.”

 

“I don’t want Sam to leave.”

 

“I know.”

 

“But I was scared to see him again.”

 

“Why do you think that is?”

 

“Because I don’t know who to be anymore. I feel angry. I feel sad. I feel happy. I feel so much right now. It’s like I’m wide open and I’m afraid of what will spill out.”

 

“That’s normal. You’ve been opening up a lot in here. Talking about stuff that I suspect you have rarely, if ever, talked about before. That can leave you feeling raw. Leave you feeling vulnerable.”

 

“What if I push him away? What if I end pushing them all away?”

 

“If they leave because you are being honest. Because you are healing, then they don’t deserve you.”

 

“How can you say that? Sam and Cas are my family. My best friends. My life.”

 

“I know, but if they can only accept you when you’re taking care of them. When you’re hiding your hurt, then that’s not fair to you.”

 

“I’m scared to be alone.”

 

“I know.” She leaned forward. “And I know you will have a hard time believing this, but it will be okay. It really will.”

 

“How can I believe that after everything I’ve been through?”

 

“Because you’re here. Because you keep coming back here.” 

 

He wasn’t sure how that proved that he was worth much. That he was worthy of love. After all he had first come here under threat. Under fear of losing everything. Now he came back because he felt like it was the only place where he could actually get care on a regular basis. The only place where he didn’t feel ostracized. Where he didn’t feel like he was being judged by how much or how little he did for others. After all, that had always been his purpose. Caretaker. Big brother. Saviour. Hero. What more could he be? What else would he want to be?

 

“Dean, you are worthy of love. You are worthy of so much more than you believe.”

 

He looked down at his hands. Hands that had been covered in blood. His and others. Hands that had killed. Hands that had saved. Hands that may never be washed clean. How could he be more than that? How could he?

  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. Everything is Changing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean finally talk about California.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I owe everyone who has read this so far a HUGE apology for the LONG delay. My writing muse left me for awhile and she is slowly making her way back. And there have been other personal things getting in the way. So, this chapter is short and probably riddled with errors, but I wanted to pick this back up again. No warnings for this one. This is setting up the path for the rest of the story. I hope you enjoy and I apologize again. I no how frustrating that is and I promise to try and go back to having something up at least once a week. <3

Dean returned from therapy in a daze. His mind on the question of what more he could be. If he really deserved that allusive thing called happiness. He wanted to mend things. Things he wasn’t even sure were broken. He wanted to have his brother back. He wanted his best friend back. He wanted easy and simple. He laughed. Like things had ever really been that way. He made the short walk from the garage to the bunker’s entrance. He stood in the doorway, listening. Listening for laughter. Maybe some secrets that they were keeping. Maybe Sam in hushed whispers on the phone. Making plans for his escape. Maybe Cas had made contact with Heaven and they were ready to welcome him home with open arms. All would be forgiven. And Dean would be stuck here. Waiting for them to return to him. 

 

“Dean?” He shook his head, trying to bring himself back to the present moment. He blinked and looked down. Cas was staring up at him. He tried to put on a self-assured smile. A look of confidence. But Cas’ knitted brow told him that his charade wasn’t working. Okay, what now?

 

He shook his head and walked down the steps. “Sorry. I was just…” Cas tilted his head to the side and gave him that look. A look laced with so much pity that it made him sick. “I just have a headache.”

 

Cas took a step towards him, his hand stretched out. “Would you like me to try and take it away?”

 

Dean quickly ducked his head. “No, man. Don’t waste your angel mojo on my head.” He plastered on another smile. “I’ll just take some aspirin.” Dean glanced around the room. “Where’s Sam?”

 

“He’s in his room. Some phone call.” 

 

California, Dean guessed. “Oh.” He stood there, almost frozen. Not sure what to do. Did he want to lock himself away in his room again? Hide under the covers. Did he want to sit out here and deal with Cas’ look of concern that never seemed to leave his face? 

 

Cas touched him on the shoulder and he jumped. “Sorry, Dean.”

 

He turned around and looked at Cas. “It’s okay. I was just…”  _ Please don’t tilt your head again. Can we just sit and be friends? Laugh about nothing.  _ “I was just thinking, maybe we should get a dog.”  _ What? _

 

“A dog?”

 

“Um...yeah, you know those things with four legs and fur. They tend to bark sometimes.”

 

Cas actually rolled his eyes. “I know what a dog is, Dean.”

 

“Yeah, well I met this one dog the other day and…”

 

“Is that the dog you want?”

 

“No. He belongs to someone else. I just…” He shook his head. “Forget it.” He put his hand to his forehead. “I still have that headache, so I think I’ll just head to bed.” He gave Cas a quick pat on his shoulder and headed towards his bedroom. 

He closed the bedroom door behind him and laughed. “A dog? A damn dog.” 

 

He glanced over at his bed. His neatly made bed with just a little imprint from his head on the pillow. He glanced at the bedside table, the picture of his mom resting against the lamp. His mom loved dogs. She used to take Dean to a local dog park just to watch them playing. Her face would light up every time and in those moments she was like a child. She taught him how to approach dogs. How to not run up to them. How to let them sniff you first. Let them see if you are okay. She always wanted one, but his dad...his dad said they were too expensive and besides they had their plate full with two young boys. There was always a sadness in her eyes whenever they would leave those parks. A sadness whenever John said no. 

 

Dean swallowed and blinked back the tears. They couldn’t get a dog. Could they? They traveled. They didn’t have a steady income. Dogs were work. Dogs were expensive. His dad was right. And damn did they stink sometimes. And they always left a mess of fur everywhere. And they...There was a knock on his door and he nearly jumped. 

 

“Yeah?”

 

Sam cleared his throat. “Dean?” 

 

Dean shook his head, stepped away from the door and opened it. “Hey.”

 

Sam took a little step back and then smiled. “I...I was wondering if you…” He laughed and rubbed his neck. Sam was nervous about something and Dean felt his stomach turning. “Do you wanna go into town and grab a burger?”

 

He knew this was a trap. Sam was finally ready to talk. To stop the secret phone calls. He was going to go back to Stanford. Dean put on a brave face. “Sure.”

 

Sam clasped his hands together. “Great!” You would’ve thought Dean had agreed to let him drive Baby from now. Jesus, whatever this was might just break him. “Let’s go.”

 

“Okay jumpy.”

 

“I’m not jumpy.”

 

“Whatever, Sammy.” Dean grabbed his jacket and followed Sam down the hall. Trying to prepare himself for whatever was coming. 

 

* * *

 

They sat in a tiny booth at  _ Jiffy Burger _ . It was one of Dean’s favorites and Sam had chosen it. Yep, this must be big. The waiter came and took their order. Dean had the bacon cheeseburger and a chocolate shake, although he wasn’t sure he would actually be able to eat it. Sam ordered a chicken sandwich and an iced tea. 

 

The waiter left and a nervous silence fell over the table. Sam’s foot was nervously tapping under the table and Dean had to fight the urge to tell him to stop. Dean sighed and leaned back in the booth. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

 

Sam froze and then visibly tried to relax. “Talk? I just wanted to go get a burger.”

 

Dean leaned forward. “Sam, you’re jumpy, your damn leg hasn’t stopped moving and you insisted we come here. You’re trying to butter me up.”

 

“What? No I’m not.” Dean cocked his head. And Sam let out a breath. “Okay, fine. I just wanted...I haven’t told you...I…” Sam tugged at the corner of his napkin. 

 

“It's about California, right?” Sam knitted his brow, a look of surprise on his face.

 

“Yeah. How did you-”

 

“It doesn’t take a genius. You’ve been distracted since you got back and...Are you leaving?”

 

He blinked and his mouth opened. “Dean, I-”

 

The waiter chose that moment to arrive with their orders. He placed the food and drinks in front of them and asked if they needed anything else. Dean shook his head and Sam told him no thanks. The waiter left and Dean stared down at his greasy burger. His stomach felt queasy. “You were saying.”

 

“You know what, why don’t we eat first and then-”

 

Dean pushed his plate away. “Just tell me, Sam. Are you leaving?”

 

“What? No. Why would you think that?”

 

“The phone calls.” 

“You know about those.”

 

“I’m not an idiot.”

 

“I didn’t-”

 

“I know you and Cas are...I know you’re just trying to figure out a way to tell me.”

 

“Cas? What does…” Sam shook his head and let out a breath. “I...I met someone.”

 

“You met someone?”

 

“Yeah. She’s a hunter and-”

 

“A hunter?”

 

Sam averted his eyes. “I wasn’t stuck in a snowstorm. I mean there was a snowstorm, but...I was on a case and then…” He looked up. “I stayed a couple of days to...to be with her.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

“Because I knew you’d worry. Because I knew you’d want to come out there.”

 

Dean shook his head. “We’re supposed to be being honest with each other, right?”

 

“Yes. I know and I’m sorry, but...I wanted you to have a break.”

 

“A break.”

 

“Yeah. A break from being the big brother.”

 

“Sammy, I don’t ever get a break from that.” Sam frowned and looked down at the table. “I just mean...when you’re an older brother, and especially with us, I can’t help but worry.”

 

Sam looked back up. “If I hadn’t gone would you have gone to that concert?”

 

“Maybe. It wasn’t like I went to another state.”

 

“Dean, we have to learn how to be okay apart.”

 

“So you are leaving.”

 

Sam sighed. “No. And I’m not moving out. I’m just saying...I want you to be happy, Dean. And I want to be happy. And Beth, she-”

 

Dean cocked an eyebrow. “Beth?”

 

“Yes, Beth. We want to be happy.”

 

“So, the whole white picket fence and all that.”

 

“Dean, we’re hunters. We know the reality. But it doesn’t mean we have to be alone.” Sam looked down. “It doesn’t mean we can’t fall in love.”

 

Dean’s mouth opened and his eyes grew wide.  _ Love? What the fuck? _ “You’re in love?”

 

Sam smiled softly and then looked at Dean. “Yeah.”

 

“Wow. I thought you just got laid.”

 

“She’s really great, Dean. She grew up in this life, just like us.” He leaned forward. “She even knew Ellen and Joe.” He should be happy for him. He knew he should. But the fear of losing him was still there. Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “I want her to come live with us. In the bunker?”

 

“Wait, what!?”

 

“Dean, she’s a hunter and-”

 

He held his hand up. “Sam, we can’t keep letting people in there. Don’t you know how dangerous it is?”

 

“Hey, we let Donna come over and Cas and-”

 

“And I didn’t want Donna to know. I worry everyday that someone-” He rubbed his face. “She may be a hunter, but we...we’re like on the top of the most wanted list for every demon, every piece of shit out there. And dragging someone else into it, just-”

 

Sam crossed his arms. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”

 

“Sam, I am, okay, but-”

 

“You’re jealous.”

 

“What? No I’m not.”

 

Sam pointed at him. “You can’t stand the fact that I may have found someone to be happy with. Someone to share my life with.”

 

“That’s not true.”

 

“Yes, it is. You’re pissed because I might be able to have what you never could.”

 

“Sammy-”

 

“You’re pissed because maybe, just maybe, if Lisa had been a hunter you could have-”

 

Dean felt the sting of the words like a knife to the heart. “I told you to never mention her again.” He blinked back all the tears. “You have no idea what that did to me. I loved…” Dean swallowed and stood up. “You know what, you can find your own way home.”

 

“Dean-” He sprinted out of the diner, not looking back.

 

* * *

 

Dean ran into the bunker, fuming. He bolted past Cas, ignoring his questions and slammed his bedroom door. He paced the floor, trying not to think about her. Trying not see her smile. Her long dark hair. Trying not to remember how it felt to hold her or kiss her. Why did Sam have to say her name? He knew that Dean could never...she wouldn’t even remember him if she saw him. 

 

“Dean?” He looked up at the sound of Sam’s voice. “Dean, please.” Maybe if he said nothing he would go away. “Dean, I’m coming in.” No such luck.

 

Dean ran a hand through his hair and stood up as tall as he could, steeling himself for whatever was about to come. Sam opened the door and looked at him. “What?”

 

“I’m sorry. I never should’ve-”

 

“I told you to never mention her again.” His voice cracked and he turned his back to Sam.

 

“I know and I really am sorry, but I was just...why can’t you just be happy for me, Dean?”

 

Dean closed his eyes and turned back around. “I am happy for you, Sam. I am. But I just...I don’t want you to...I know what Jess’ death and when you tried with Amelia and...I don’t want you to get hurt.”

 

Sam gave him a small smile. “Dean, you can’t protect me from that. I already love her.”

 

“You just met her.”

 

“I know, but I love her.” Dean crossed his arms and looked down. “And you’re not gonna lose me. I’m not leaving. Cas isn’t leaving. We’re family.”

 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s okay.” Sam walked over to his desk and leaned against it. “She’s coming into town next week.” 

 

“To move in?”

 

“No. Just a visit.”

 

“Okay. Well, we’ll have to cook her up a nice dinner. I’ll even go and get one of my favorite pies.”

 

“Chocolate. She likes chocolate pies.”

 

“Chocolate it is.” 

 

Sam smiled and turned to leave. He stopped, his hand on the door. “Goodnight, jerk.”

 

“‘Night bitch.” Dean collapsed back on the bed, trying to just be happy for Sam. Trying to calm the knot in his stomach. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The diner is a real place in Kansas and just seemed like a Dean kind of joint. I decided to leave therapy out of this chapter. I wanted this to be a little bridge to things to come. I also hadn't planned on Sam's love interest, but it just felt natural. Thanks again for reading and hope we have a good season finale tomorrow. <3


	11. Beth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam, Dean and Cas prepare for Beth's visit.

The next few days were a flurry of preparation for Beth’s visit. Dean had never seen Sam in such a constant state of nerves. Not even the apocalypse had made him this nervous. Dean thought it was cute and almost normal. This is what other people worried about. This is what other people considered “life and death” situations. 

 

Cas, Sam and Dean were in the kitchen making a list of what they would be getting from the store. Beth, as it turned out, was kind of a picky eater. She loved pie, but only chocolate. Loved burgers, which was good, but only on whole wheat buns and with organic vegetables. Dean had rolled his eyes at that and received a nice little slap to the back of his head from Sam. How she ever managed to survive on the road was a mystery to him. But Sam was enchanted. He was over the moon. So, Dean went along with it. 

 

Dean glanced up from the list he was writing. “What if I were to buy some tomatoes and just add the organic sticker? Would she really know?” 

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yes, Dean, she would know.”

 

Dean scoffed and said under his breath, “Yeah, right.”

 

Cas looked up from the fridge where he was checking expiration dates, “You know, Grainger County, Tennessee grows some of the best tomatoes in the United States.” He tossed a jar of salsa in the trash. “Do you think Beth would like those?”

 

Sam got an almost wistful look on his face and Dean shook his head. “We’re not driving to Tennessee for tomatoes.”

 

“It would just be a-”

 

“Sam.”

 

“Fine. But we’re getting organic.”

 

They continued making the ever complicated and picky list and Cas filled one trash bag with expired goods. Dean wanted to double check, he was sure he hadn’t let so many things go bad, but Cas just said to trust him. Guess he was the expert on expired foods or something. 

 

When they finished, Sam grabbed the grocery list from Dean and headed to the store. Guess he didn’t trust him to not switch an organic sticker for a regular one. Once Sam was gone, Dean decided to go ahead and make himself a lunch with whatever might be left in the fridge. He found a couple of slices of sourdough bread and some peanut butter and jelly. 

 

“Sam, really seems to like this Beth.”

 

Dean laughed. “Yeah, just a little bit.” He sat down with his sandwich and took a healthy bite. 

 

“Do you like her?”

 

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know her, Cas.” He had talked to her a bit on the phone the other night and she seemed nice enough. Not that it mattered. She made Sammy happy and he supposed that was enough. 

 

“Sam said she used to want to be an architect. She loved to design things I guess.” 

 

Dean looked down at the table. He didn’t know that. “So, Sam talked to you about her.”

 

Cas looked like he was weighing out what the right answer might be. “Um...yes. A little bit.”

 

He set his sandwich down and looked up at Cas. “Was that what you guys were talking about after he came back?”

 

Cas glanced away, a slight look of guilt on his face. “He wanted to see what I thought about her coming here.”

 

“And he didn’t think to ask me?”

 

“He was worried that you wouldn’t want her to come.”

 

He took another bite of his sandwich. “Well, he’s right.” 

 

“But, Dean, this place is safe and-”

 

“It’s supposed to be a secret bunker, Cas. And there’s a reason that...I just don’t want him to get hurt.” He swallowed and put his sandwich down. “You guys don’t always have to keep secrets from me.”

 

Cas glanced down. “I didn’t mean to. We just thought-”

 

“Thought what? That I couldn’t handle hearing that my brother was in love? Jesus, you guys really don’t think very much of me.” He didn’t mean to say it and he wanted to take it back the second Cas looked up at him. The hurt and confusion coloring his face.

 

“That’s not true.”

 

No turning back now. “Really? Then why didn’t you guys talk to me about it? We’re supposed to be honest with each other. You guys can’t do that anymore.”

 

“I know. I’m sorry, Dean.”

 

“I may not always react the way you guys want me to or I might be too protective or whatever, but I...I thought you guys were leaving.” These were words he knew he should be keeping inside. He didn’t want to upset them. 

 

Cas gave him that darn look again and he just want to crawl away. “Dean, we aren’t leaving.”

 

“Yeah, I know. I shouldn’t have said anything.” Dean wiped his hands. “Just don’t do it again.” He took his dish to the sink and made a quick exit.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Beth would be arriving in two days. Two days. Dean was actually starting to get nervous. What if someone followed her here? What if she wasn’t who she said she was? What if she didn’t like it here? Jesus, maybe they were right to keep it from him. 

 

He found himself feeling grateful that he had a therapy appointment scheduled for the day before. Therapy had become so normal to him. It was like brushing his teeth or taking a shower. He should be scared of that. But he just wasn’t anymore and he had no idea when that happened. 

 

He was dusting the library for about the fourth time that week. It was kind of nice. The routine of it. At least they hadn’t been called away on any hunting trips. Hunting trips. Those were becoming few and far between lately. That should really bother him more than it was. He should want to be out on the open road. 

 

He finished dusting and collapsed into a chair. Sam walked in and took a look around. He smiled and crossed his arms. “Thanks, Dean.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For dusting. For getting organic. For trying.”

 

“I want you to be happy, Sammy.”

 

“Yeah, I know. But...never mind.” Sam turned to leave.

 

“What?”

 

He turned back around. “I was scared. That’s all.”

 

Dean took a deep breath. “You have to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

 

“Looking down on me.”

 

“That’s not what...Dean, I just-”

 

“You thought I couldn’t handle you being happy. Being in love.”

 

“It’s just that I thought that you...I thought you’d think I was stupid.”

 

“I don’t think you're stupid. I worry. I do. But that’s just who I am. But you can’t sneak around talking about this with Cas like...like you don’t trust me.” The next words that he uttered surprised even him. “I don’t deserve that.” Jesus, he was doing it again.

 

Sam looked taken aback. Almost as surprised by the words as Dean was by saying them. But then he gave a soft smile and nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Sam glanced around the room.

 

“She’s gonna love it here, Sam.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Dean gestured to the room. “I mean you have a friggin’ bat cave, man. That’s gonna impress the shit out of her.” Sam laughed and Dean thought that maybe this could actually work. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

One more day till Beth arrived. One more day till things changed at the bunker. Things were clean. The fridge was stocked. Sam was a jittery ball of nerves with a goofy smile plastered on his face. Dean thought this is what real happiness looked like. He wondered if he ever had that same goofy smile. Maybe with Lisa, but he doubted that. Every moment with her was tinged with his overwhelming grief for his brother. Maybe years ago with Cassie, but he couldn’t remember. Was there anything or anyone that would ever bring him that kind of happiness? 

 

He was driving into town for therapy and he found himself filled with a sense of relief that he would be away from the bunker for a bit. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe he was jealous. He rolled his eyes. Jealousy was such a useless emotion in their line of work. In their daily life. 

 

He pulled the car into the parking lot and glanced out of the window. The sky was cloudy and he thought he heard that there was a slight chance of snow. He always loved snow. The freshness of it. The smell right before it fell. When he was a kid he used to sneak out of the various hotels they’d be staying in to play in it. Build a snowman or throw snowballs at cars. And sometimes his dad would actually join him and they would have epic snowball fights. And they would be just a normal family. 

 

He shook his head, trying to clear that memory, and made his way inside. He was right on time today and Laura’s office door was ajar. Dean felt that familiar tug of fear, nerves, heightened senses. He touched his side, making sure his gun was still there inside his jacket. He made his way around the corner and prepared for whatever might be waiting for him. But there was only Laura. Smiling at him and gesturing him inside. He tried to relax his shoulders and smile back. Everything was as it should be. 

 

“How are you, Dean?”

 

He took a seat on the sofa and leaned back. “Fine.”

 

“Anything happen since I last saw you?”

 

“Nothing. Just...Sam met someone.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah. Her name is Beth and she’s kind of in the same line of work.”

 

“Where did he meet her?”

 

“California.” Dean rubbed his legs. “That’s what he and Cas were talking about.”

 

“Is he-”

 

“Going to California?” Laura nodded. “No. In fact he...he wants her to move in with him. With us.”

 

“Wow. How do you feel about that?”

 

He shrugged. “He’s happy, so I guess there’s nothing to complain about.”

 

She studied his face for a moment and he turned his eyes away. He waited for her to question him. Push him on what he said. But she didn’t and he wished it didn’t bother him. “When does she move in?”

 

“Well, she’s coming to visit first. She gets in tomorrow.”

 

“And it’ll be your first time meeting her?”

 

Dean nodded. “You should see Sammy. He’s so nervous, but this kind of happy nervous. Like nothing in the world could bring him down.” Dean laughed and looked down at his hands. His smile faltered. 

 

“Is he in love?”

 

“That’s what he says.”

 

“You don’t believe him?”

 

He looked up at her. “It’s not that. It’s just...he just met her.”

 

“Well, some believe in love at first site.”

 

He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you believe in that?”

 

“No. But doesn’t mean it can’t happen.”

 

“I just don’t want him to get hurt.”

 

“Getting hurt is a risk you take when you love someone.”

 

“Okay, let’s not get too Hallmark about this.”

 

“It’s true. Letting someone into your heart is a risk. And getting hurt is part of that risk. It doesn’t mean Sam will get hurt, but it’s always a possibility.”

 

“But he’s been hurt so much.”

 

“I know. But the fact that he wants to take this risk is a good thing. He’s not letting let that past hurt stop him.”

 

“Unlike me?”

 

She knitted her brow. “No. I didn’t say that.”

 

“I got upset when Sam told me. I was just worried, you know.” Dean tugged on his shirt. “He said I was jealous.”

 

“Are you?”

 

“That’s silly.”

 

“It’s not silly. It’s human.”

 

“He just looks so happy and I...I don’t know if I’ve ever looked that way.”

 

“Were you ever happy like that in any of your relationships?”

 

“I mean I was happy, but there was always this...this fear underneath it all.”

 

“What were you afraid of?”

 

“That something awful would happen. Something that would make it all disappear.” He shook his head. “Thing is, something usually did. Not that I’ve had many relationships.”

 

“Is that why you have one night stands?”

 

“I’m a guy.” She cocked her head. “Okay. Fine. Maybe. But it’s just better that way.”

 

“For who?”

 

He knew the answer to that. He knew that all those times he would sneak out just before dawn, saying to himself that he just didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness. But the truth was that more times than not he wanted that awkward hello in the morning. Maybe breakfast together or exchange of numbers and the off chance they would see eachother again. “Lisa, the woman I...I lived with, she...she was the first one that I thought that maybe...maybe I could make it okay. I could protect her and make it safe for someone to…but then my life, my real life, just wouldn’t let that happen.” He swore he wouldn’t talk about her and yet he kept thinking about her. It kept being thrown in his face. “Letting her go was...fuck, it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.”

 

“Then why did you?”

 

“Because I had to.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because being with me-”  _ Could get her killed. _ “I was a mess. I wasn’t  a very good person to be around.”

 

“Have you ever thought about contacting her?”

 

“No. No. I will never do that.”

 

“Dean-”

 

He held up his hand. “Look, you don’t know the whole story and I understand it’s your job to try and help me here, but I’ll never contact her. I’ll never put her or her son in danger again.”

 

“Danger?” Shit. “Why would they be in danger?”

 

He felt his hands shaking and his stomach doing flip-flops. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “I just meant that...with me traveling sometimes I meet weird people and that’s all.” He could tell she wasn’t buying it and he worried that she would keep pressing this. “Life on the road is not safe, okay. That’s all I meant.”

 

Laura was quiet for a minute. Almost too quiet. Dean wanted to run. Maybe he needed to find a new therapist now. “Okay, Dean. I won’t ask you again about it.”

 

He couldn’t believe it. “Really?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Thank you.” 

 

She smiled. “But I do want to ask you something.” Uh-oh, here it comes. “Do you want to be happy like Sam is?”

 

He swallowed. “I don’t know if I deserve that. I mean I know you’ve said that I do. But I just don’t know how that would even work.”

 

“The first step would be to allow yourself to want that. To give yourself permission to be happy.”

 

“And that would just make me happy?”

 

“No. Not necessarily. But it would open you up to the possibility of being happy.”

 

He licked his lips and glanced to the side. “I um...I asked Cas what he would think about getting a dog.”

 

She smiled. “And what did he say?”

 

“Nothing really. I changed the subject quickly.”

 

“Do you want to get a dog?”

 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. It would be hard to have a dog with the life I lead.”

 

“There are people who watch dogs for a living. Daycare services and the like.”

 

“Daycare for dogs?” Strangers watching his dog. Strangers he’d have to vet. 

 

“Yeah. Or there are people who watch your dog when you’re out of town.” 

 

“What do you like sideline as a dog sitter or something?”

 

She laughed. “No.” She leaned forward. “It’d be a risk, but you could make it work.”

 

“Yeah.” He smiled. Maybe it was a risk he’d like to take. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Sam had been pacing near the front door for the past hour and Dean was ready to tie him to a chair. “Sam, you’re gonna wear a hole in the floor.”

 

“Dean, I don’t think it’s possible for Sam to-”

 

“It’s an expression, Cas.” Dean placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder and he stopped moving. “Hey, it’s okay. She’ll get here.”

 

“But the roads...there’s snow and-”

 

“She’s a hunter, Sam. Snow’s not gonna stop her.” He smiled, but Dean saw the nerves were there. And he said a silent prayer that she would not let his brother down. 

 

Ten minutes later Sam’s phone let out a little ping and Sam nearly jumped ten feet. He glanced down at his phone and the smile that spread across his face sent a wave a relief through Dean. “She’s about five minutes away.”

 

“See, I told you.”

 

“Yeah. I’m gonna go out and wait for her. Make sure she can find it okay.” Dean smiled and watched as Sam nearly bolted out the front door.

 

A few minutes later Sam returned, his arm around Beth’s shoulders. She was about five inches shorter than Sam, but you could tell she was tough as nails. She had a strength that radiated from her. She had shoulder length dark brown hair and brown eyes that sparkled when she looked at Sam. She was slender, but had some muscle. She was dressed in jeans, and an awesome leather jacket. And she was wearing that same goofy smile that Sam sported. 

 

Sam led her downstairs, his hand never leaving the small of her back. He set her overnight bag on the floor and started the introductions. “Beth. this is my brother Dean”

 

Dean held out his hand and she held it for a moment, looking him in the eye.  “I’m so happy to meet you, Dean.” 

 

“Me too.” She gave his hand a squeeze and then turned toward Cas.

 

“And this is, Cas.”

 

She smiled and shook her head. “The Angel, right?”

 

Cas smiled. “Yes.”

 

She grabbed his hand and Cas looked a little caught off guard, but he recovered quickly. “Oh man, it’s so flippin’ awesome to meet you.” She let go of his hand and blushed a little. “Sorry, I just...I’ve heard all about you and I just...I’ve never met an Angel before.” She leaned forward. “And Sam told me you weren’t one of the dicks.” Dean chuckled.

 

“Why don’t I show you the rest of the bunker and then we can have dinner.”

 

She shook her head. “That can wait. Have you guys looked outside lately? It’s like a fuckin’-” She looked at Cas. “Sorry.” 

 

Dean laughed. “It’s okay, Beth. Cas is used to swearing.” Dean clapped Cas on the back. “He’s sometimes even even been known to say a colorful phrase or two.” Dean winked at her and Cas just glared at him. 

 

She smiled. “Anyway, it’s like a snow globe out there. I mean how often do you guys actually just hang out outside of this bunker?” She grabbed Sam’s hand. “Let’s have a snowball fight.”

 

Dean could like this girl. “Okay, but don’t think I’m taking it easy on you just because you’re girl.” 

 

“I’d be pissed if you did.”

 

“I like her, Sammy.” Sam smiled and Beth pulled him towards the door, Cas and Dean following behind them. 

 

The snowball fight wasn’t the best he’d ever had. Cas took awhile to get the hang of it, but when he did his snowballs were thrown with such force that Dean was worried he was gonna break someone’s nose. Beth and Sam would occasionally sneak little kisses in between snowballs and Dean decided that that was always the perfect time to slam them with one. Despite those things and the fact that most of the snow was either slushy or not enough to really make a good compact one, it was still some of the most fun they had had together in a long time. He felt at ease. Relaxed. Like he was home. Like he was with his family. 

 

After their hands had all turned red and numb and their noses were dripping from the cold, they decided to head inside. Dean made them some coffee and he secretly wished he had picked up some hot chocolate. They cut into the chocolate cream pie and Dean felt a little bit better about Beth’s pickiness when he saw the healthy slice she took. They stayed up for a couple of hours, talking and laughing. Beth told them some war stories and they told her all about the history of the bunker. Dean would catch Sam gently squeezing Beth’s hand or planting little kisses on her forehead every time he got up. Sam was happy and Dean was happy for him. But he felt a strange tugging on his heart. A little ache he couldn’t quite place. 

 

Shortly after midnight Sam and Beth excused themselves and Cas retired to his room to catch up on some reading. Dean sat in the kitchen for awhile after they left. Listening to the silence that their absence left behind and wondering why he felt a little pain in his chest. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

It was four o’clock in the morning and Dean lay awake in his bed just staring at the ceiling. He had finally fallen asleep a little after one, but just a couple hours later he woke up. He had never needed much sleep before. Or really he had never been able to get much sleep before. But now that he could he found that more often than not he would find himself lying awake, just staring at the walls. Sometimes he would get up and listen to music or watch some movie until he drifted off to sleep again. 

 

He sat up and glanced over at his nightstand. Without thinking, he opened the drawer and pulled out his journal. 

 

_ Sam’s in love. I watch him with her and I wonder if this was what he was like with Jessica. Man, I wish I could have seen that. I wish I could’ve been in his life then. I’m happy for him. I just keep repeating that and it is true. But there’s still this little worry that is tugging away inside. Maybe it’s because the last time he was in love he didn’t...no, I can’t think that. Sammy wants her to move in here. That will be ok, right? She’s a hunter. She knows the life. She’s tough and she can protect herself. I can relax and stop worrying, right? Right? _

 

_ I keep thinking about getting a dog. It makes me want to laugh. Why would I want a dog? Just another being to be responsible for. Just another creature that could leave at anytime. But I keep having dreams about it and when I wake up I feel sad. Like something’s missing. Would Sam laugh if I mentioned getting a dog? Would he be pissed because I never wanted us to get one before?  _

 

_ After mom died my dad vowed that we would never get a dog. He said he hated them. Said they stunk and would destroy the Impala. But really it was because they reminded him of mom. They reminded him of how happy she would be every time she got near a dog. So, I grew to hate them too. Or at least in front of him. What no one knows, what I’ll never tell anyone, is that I would sometimes try and sneak off to the park to watch them play. I would sneak in pets when no one was looking. I would even watch for them out the window as we drove through towns.  _

 

_ Man, I have to stop thinking about this dog thing. It can’t happen. Not with someone else moving in and our life, that granted is kind of quiet right now, but it won’t stay that way. I wonder if Beth likes dogs. I mean she could watch the dog if...stop it. You’re not getting a dog.  _

 

Dean closed the journal and set it down on the nightstand. He grabbed his laptop and started searching for local animal shelter. Oh man, what the hell was he doing?

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Hope you liked it, fluff and all. :)


	12. Lola

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew looking for a dog could be so complicated?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank sunshine1984 for the feedback about dogs in Kansas. You influenced a change to the story that I love.There is also a LONG note at the end. As always, thank you for reading. <3<3<3
> 
> Warnings for implied / referenced dog abuse and neglect.

He spent three hours browsing through pictures of dogs at nearby shelters. There were so many of them, all with the same scared and confused look. He knew he wanted a bigger dog. There were some cute little ones, but they just didn’t jump out at him. Plus, he thought Sam might have some bad memories when it came to yorkies. He had to laugh at that memory of Sam, the giant moose, being controlled by a creature that tiny. He supposed a German shepherd might be the obvious choice. He connected, or whatever, to the Coronal. But there weren’t many shepherds on the sites and the ones that were there didn’t click with him. _Click with him_? Jesus it’s not like he was picking up some chick.

 

He thought back to the dog that started this whole insane thing; Chester. He searched for one of those, a Great Pyrenees he thought, but nothing even close to that. At the three hour mark Dean’s eyes were starting to cross and he still hadn’t spotted a single one that spoke to him. For crying out loud, maybe the sleep deprivation was making him be so dang weird about this. But it was a big decision, right? It was another life he was bringing into his crazy world. It was a being he would be caring for till...how long did dogs live anyway? He started to google the average lifespan of a dog, but the knock on the door stopped him. He jumped up dropping the laptop. Dean cleared his throat, “Yeah.”

 

Sam walked in and snickered when he saw the computer on the floor. “Sorry, did I interrupt something?” Sam put a hand in front of his mouth to hide the laughing.

 

Dean grabbed the laptop and set it down on his desk. “I wasn’t-”

 

“Hey, we all have needs.”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “What did you want, Sammy?”

 

“I wanted to see if you wanted to go get some breakfast with us.”

 

He glanced at his desk. He could continue looking later. “Sure. Just um...let me take a quick shower?” Sam nodded, trying to hide a chuckle, and left him to get ready.

 

They were sitting in a tiny booth in the corner of a small diner. Cas was nursing a cup of coffee with about ten sugars in it and Beth and Sam were pretty much eating off each other’s plates. Dean popped a piece of bacon in his mouth. “So, Beth, how do you like the bunker?”

 

She pulled her eyes away from Sam and smiled. “It’s pretty damn awesome.”

 

Dean pointed another piece of bacon at Sam. “See, I told you she’d be impressed.” He popped it in his mouth and winked. “So, when is moving day?”

 

Beth and Sam glanced at each other and Dean saw this look of hesitation. Great, she didn’t want to move in and she was gonna take Sam away. “Um, well, I have a little place back in California. It was really nothing. Kind of like just a place to crash in between jobs.” She squeezed Sam’s hand. “Sam’s gonna come back to California with me.” And there it was. Dean felt those little cracks again. “But just to help me clean up the place. Get it ready for someone else. I know this couple that hunt and they would love it.”

 

“I’ll be back, Dean. Just going for a couple weeks.” He felt all eyes on him and he wished they would just stop.

 

“I know. I’m a big boy. Cas and I can hold down the fort.”

 

Cas leaned over to him. “The fort?”

 

“The bunker.”

 

“Oh, right. Yes, Dean and I can hold down the fort.” Cas smiled and held his cup out like he was giving a toast. Dean clinked his coffee cup to Cas’ and Sam and Beth followed suit.

 

They went back to eating, Sam and Beth sharing their plates of food. It was all so normal that he thought it might be the perfect time to just bite the bullet and hope they didn’t think he was crazy. “So, I was thinking about getting a dog.” Sam nearly choked on the piece of fruit he was eating. “I’ve been looking at some shelters online and I haven’t found the right one yet. But I think that-”

 

“A dog? You want to get a fucking dog?”

 

Beth nudged Sam. “Sam.”

 

“I’m sorry, it’s just...you hate dogs.”

 

Cas chimed in, “That’s not true, Sam. Dean loves dogs.” All eyes turned to Cas. “He was telling me about it just the other day.”

 

Sam shook his head and looked back at Dean. “So, you’ve been discussing this with Cas? I thought you didn’t want any secrets anymore, Dean?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm and a little anger.

 

“All I did was mention I was thinking about it to Cas and then I dropped it. I honestly didn’t even think I would get one.”

 

“So, you’re definitely doing this?”

 

“If you can bring a girl home, I can bring a dog.” He glanced at Beth. “Sorry, Beth.”

 

She chuckled. “It’s okay.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Still doesn’t change the fact that you don’t like dogs.”

 

“That’s not true. I just don’t like them stinking up the Impala, but I-”

 

“Wait, is this some sort of leftover thing from when you were a dog?”

 

Beth laughed. “You were a dog?”

 

Dean scowled. “I wasn’t a dog.” Sam cocked his eyebrow. “I wasn’t. I was just mind meld and that has nothing to do with this.”

 

Cas was staring at him, confusion on his face. “When were you a dog?”

 

Sam laughed. “I wasn’t a dog, okay. I just had the same thoughts, but I was still human dammit.”

 

Beth cleared her throat. “So, what kind of dog were you, Dean?”

 

He threw his napkin down. “I wasn’t a god damn dog. I just could hear them talk and...you know what, forget it.” Cas was still looking at him with that confused look on his face and Sam was laughing. And Dean tried not to be hurt by it. He teased people and he could put up with it, but there was something to it that just hurt. He glanced up and saw Beth staring at him. She gave him the sweetest smile and then she nudged Sam. He looked at her and she must really have power over him because he instantly stopped laughing and actually looked a little ashamed.

 

She looked back at Dean.  “So, what kind of dog do you want to get?”

 

Dean sat up a little straighter and glanced at Cas and Sam. “I’m not really sure. I met this dog when I was in Topeka that was pretty cool. He was a Great Pyrenees, I think, but they didn’t have any of those.”

 

“Well, Sam and Cas and I can help you look.” She looked at Sam. “Right, guys?”

 

Sam smiled. “Yeah.” Cas nodded. “And sorry, Dean, I just...you took me by surprise.”

 

“Look, I know it sounds crazy and I’ll probably be a horrible dog dad or whatever.”

 

Sam smiled at him. “I think you’ll be a great dog dad.” He pointed his finger at Dean. “I always knew you secretly liked dogs.” They wen back to their breakfast and Dean felt relaxed and hopeful.

 

* * *

 

They spent the rest of the day looking at dogs. Sam and Cas agreed that the final decisions should be Dean’s. It would be his dog. But Dean wanted them all to love it. They looked on the sites for the various shelters in Kansas and even visited a nearby one. Sam really wanted a cute little golden retriever mix named Katie they saw at the shelter they visited. She was a sweet dog. Very friendly, playful and seemed to like all of them. Dean guessed that she reminded Sam of the dog he briefly had when he ran away. There was a pain that came with that memory. A pain that may have tainted Dean’s view of the dog. He was afraid to tell Sam that Katie wasn’t the right fit. But Sam just smiled, gave Katie another pat, and told Dean it had to feel right.

 

They continued to look at the shelter and online, but that right fit just didn’t seem to be coming. He was beginning to think that maybe his indecision was telling him that this whole dog idea wasn’t that great after all. They were looking online at a shelter over in Oklahoma when Beth got a call from a hunter friend of hers. She said he had gotten a lead about a case in Wichita. A case. Man, they hadn’t been on one in so long. It sounded like a typical salt ‘n burn. An easy case maybe. He thought they probably didn’t need all four of them to go. Sam and Beth could take care of it by themselves. Dean could stay, keep looking for dogs. No. This was his job. This was his life. And one hour later they were on the road, Cas and Dean in Baby and Sam and Beth in her car.

 

The case took them less than twenty-four hours and it was still light out the next day when they were heading back to the bunker with only a couple of scratches. Dean was glad they didn’t have to stay in town. He found himself hoping that it would be awhile before the next one.

 

Dean was leading the way and they were the only two cars on the long stretch of road with empty fields on either side of them. Sometimes the flatness of Kansas made him sad. He was about to turn up the radio, when he saw something moving in the field to the left him. He slowed down and Cas looked over at him. “Did you see that?”

 

“See what?”

 

“I don’t know, but it-” And then he saw it. A dog out in the middle of the field. It wasn’t really running, but just standing there, looking around. He stopped the car and pointed. “There. It’s a dog.”

  
Cas leaned over and looked. “Oh. It is.”

 

Dean pulled the car over to the side of the road and saw Sam do the same. He got out of the car, keeping his eyes on the dog. It had started to move a little bit closer to the road, but there was hesitancy there. Sam and Beth didn’t seem to notice it. “Hey, why are we stopping?” Dean pointed out to the field and their eyes followed. “Oh, shit. Is that a dog?” He nodded and started heading toward the field. Sam grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”

 

“We can’t just leave it out there.”

 

“Dean, what if it’s vicious?”

 

“Seriously, you’re the one who took in a stray dog before.” He continued to cross the street, Cas following behind. As he got closer to the field he saw the dog freeze and he wondered if maybe this was a mistake. He saw the dog start to take a couple of steps back. If the dog ran he knew he would never be able to catch it. He stopped walking and held his hand up to stop Cas. Luckily the dog stopped moving. He searched in his pockets, hoping against hope that he had something to entice the dog with. His pockets were empty. Damn. He sighed and knelt down. “Come ‘mere sweetheart.” The dog tilted its head to the side, probably questioning how trustworthy he was. “I won’t hurt you.” Could dogs even understand that? They crouched for a few minutes, neither one moving, and Dean was about to send Sam a text asking him to search for some food, when they dog took a couple steps forward. “That’s it.” It took a few more, then stopped for a second. He feared it was about to change its mind, but then the dog kept walking forward.

 

It stopped just two feet shy of Dean. The dog was female, about medium sized he’d guess, maybe forty to fifty pounds. She was white with big brown spots. Her ears were crudely cropped and he felt a pain inside to think about who would’ve done that. She had a tattered collar on that was nearly thread bear. He reached a hand out and she tentatively leaned closer. She took a quick sniff and a couple steps closer. Dean reached a hand out and she let him touch her. In fact, she took a step closer. “Good girl.” He scratched behind her ear and she leaned into his hand. He looked closer at her and saw how dirty she was. Like she hadn’t bathed in weeks. While he continued to pet her, he took a quick scan of her body. There were a few scars visible, but he didn’t see any open wounds. With his free hand he reached for the tattered collar. There was a little tag with the name “Lola” scratched on it. He turned it over and there was no other info. Not that he really wanted to find her owners. He could only imagine who they were. “It’s okay. You’re safe now.” Dean took a chance and reached his free hand underneath her body, the other one still petting her, and he lifted her up as he stood. It wasn’t as graceful as he could’ve been and they both almost toppled over, but surprisingly she didn’t try and get away. She didn’t even move, except to lean into Dean’s touch.

 

He arrived back at the car and Beth and Sam were staring at him. “That was incredible.” Beth said.

 

“I just picked her up.”

 

“You did  more than that.” She nudged Sam.

 

Sam shook his head and held out a piece of rope to Dean. “I thought you could use it as a leash.”

 

As much as Dean didn’t want to let her go, his arms were getting sore and his knees weren’t what they used to be. He slowly set Lola down and to his shock she instantly leaned closer to him, her eyes looking up, pleading with him. “Sorry girl, but my knees won’t let me.” Dean smiled and thread the leash through the collar. It would work for now. He gave her a pat on the head and looked up at everyone else. They were all smiling at him. “Shut-up.”

 

“What’s her tag say?”

 

“Lola.” At that, the dog cocked its head to the side. “I’m guessing it’s her name.”

 

“We should probably take her somewhere. Like a shelter or-”

 

“No way, Sam. She’s filthy and did you see her ears.”

 

“Dean, she may be lost.”

 

“She has scars, Sammy.”  Sam frowned and knelt down. Lola took one step back and closer to Dean. “It’s okay, Lola. He’s good.” She let Sam get closer and he scanned her body. Dean saw the frown on his face as he saw the scars and looked closer at her ears. “See.”

 

“Yeah, but we still don’t know what happened.”

 

“Okay. FIne. But I don’t want to take her to a shelter. We can post signs or whatever, but I’m not taking her to that place.”

 

Beth cleared her throat. “Dean, there’s another problem.”

 

“What?”

 

“Lola’s a pit bull.”

 

“Yeah, I know. So?”

 

“So, she’s...there not exactly...there are laws against them in parts of the country and probably here too.”

 

He looked at her and didn’t understand how there could be a law against anything this innocent. He had heard stories about pit bulls. Read how they were supposed to be vicious. How they were bred to fight, but that didn’t seem to fit her. “She’s not vicious.”

 

“I didn’t say she was. But others...people suck, Dean.”

 

“Well, then I’m definitely not taking her to a shelter. She’s coming home with us.”

Dean hesitated for a moment before putting Lola in the backseat of the Impala. She was filthy and she didn’t smell that great. But when he looked in her eyes that just didn’t matter anymore. He smiled at her and opened up the rear door. She jumped in like she had been doing it her whole life. Dean closed the door and he felt it. He felt that clicking thing he hadn’t felt looking at the other dogs. Lola was the dog he wanted and that scared the hell out of him.

 

* * *

 

They stopped by a store on the way back to the bunker to grab some dog food. When they got back to the bunker they set out a bowl of food and water for her. She wolfed down the bowl of food and the water so quick that Dean was worried she would throw up. She looked up at him and then back at her bowl. “Sorry sweetheart, but I don’t want you to get sick.” Lola let out a little whine and he was about to give in, but he decided not to. “I promise I’ll give you more in the morning.” He gave her a pat on the head and it seemed to calm her down.

 

Next up was giving her a much needed bath. They didn’t have a bathtub and he wasn’t sure if human soap was okay for dogs. The store didn’t have any dog shampoo, so they washed her down with warm water. It wasn’t the best bath in the world, but she did look better. They were also able to get a better look at her. Still no open wounds, but her belly did have several more scars that the dirt was covering. Dean wanted to kill whoever did this to her.

 

He left her tattered collar on for now, but he also made a note to buy a new one for her. After she was dried, Cas looked her over. They weren’t sure if he would be able to tell everything, but they wanted to see if she had any serious issues. While Cas did that, Dean tried not to worry. What if there was something wrong and the delay in getting her help would harm her? What if he already failed this creature? After a few minutes, Cas looked up at him and smiled. “She seems healthy.”

 

Dean let out a sigh. “Thanks, Cas.”

 

Sam put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean, I think you should still take her to vet. Make sure there isn’t anything else going on.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” And he knew that would be the good thing to do. But what if the vet decided to take her to the shelter. Or what if the vet hated pit bulls? What if they weren’t even allowed to have them here? He decided the next thing he would do was to look that up.

 

“And we can take a picture of her and see if anyone-”

 

“Sam, you saw the scars on her belly and look at her ears.”

 

“I’m not saying we’d give her back if her owners were bad, but we don’t-”

 

Dean put his hand up. “Fine, but not tonight.”

 

“Okay. Okay.” Beth and Sam said goodnight and they both gave Lola a dog cookie and Dean had a feeling that not spoiling Lola might end up being a losing battle.

 

Cas knelt down in front of Lola and smiled. “It’s nice to have you here, Lola.” She gave him a little kiss on the nose and he laughed. He stood back up. “Goodnight, Dean.”

 

“‘Night, Cas.” Lola looked up at Dean. “Well, looks like it’s just you and me.” She opened her mouth and he could’ve sworn she was smiling.

 

He took her outside to go to the bathroom and then led her back inside. He wasn’t sure about letting her in his room. What if she chewed something up? What if she wasn’t house trained? Man, he didn’t think this through. He opened up his bedroom door, but stopped before entering. Lola stopped next to him. He pointed at her. “Okay, you can sleep in here, but no chewing, okay?” She tilted her head to the side. “And if you need to go the bathroom, wake me up so I can take you outside. Got it?” She looked at him for a moment, like she was weighing out her options, and then she yawned and walked into his room. She sniffed around for a bit, and then laid down next to the bed. He smiled. She looked so peaceful. So comfortable. Like she was home.

 

Dean stayed up for a few hours researching pit bulls. He found information about breed specific legislation or BSL. Turned out there were a few places in Kansas that had legislation, but luckily where they were they didn’t have that. He still couldn’t wrap his head around anyone wanting to outlaw a dog like Lola. He glanced over at her. She had been sleeping pretty much since the second she lay down. She had also been snoring. It was soft at first and then grew a little louder. He had gotten used to his share of snoring having shared many a hotel room with Sam and even though they were loud, Dean liked Lola’s snoring. It was endearing and kind of adorable. Oh man, he was turning into a sap.

 

Every once in awhile he would hear her let out a little whine and he had to stop himself from waking her up. He hated to think that she might be having nightmares. Did dogs have nightmares? He got up from the desk and gave her a little pat on the head. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” Dean climbed into bed and turned out the light.

 

He wasn’t sure what time it was, but he woke up to the feeling of the weight shifting on his bed. Something else had climbed onto his bed and his heart started beating faster. He reached over to his nightstand to get his gun, when he felt Lola’s head nuzzle his other hand. “Jesus, you scared the crap out of me.” She was curled up at his side, her head resting just below his left hand. She looked up at him, that same smile on her face. “Nope. Dogs don’t sleep in the bed.” She pushed his hand. “Not gonna work. Off the bed, Lola.” She looked at him for a moment. “Now, Lola.” She gave him the real version of puppy dog eyes and Dean had to laugh. “I grew up with a brother who did that. I’m pretty immune girl.” He saw when she finally gave in and the look of disappointment was enough to get him to almost change his mind. “Off the bed, sweetheart.” She actually sighed and then got up and took one of the slowest jumps off his bed. She looked back at him, that same puppy dog look in her eyes. “No bed.” She turned her head away and lied down on the floor. She let out another sigh and Dean chuckled. He lay back down on his pillow and tried not to miss that warmth that was just on the bed.

 

* * *

 

Dean found a local vet in the morning and luckily they had an afternoon appointment. Sam and Beth spent the morning petting Lola and sneaking her cookies every time Dean’s head was turned. “You guys are gonna make her sick.” They all helped put together a little flyer that Sam and Beth would hang in town and Dean would take to the vet. He wanted to stop them. To say whoever owned her before didn’t deserve her. But he knew he couldn’t do that. He knew that maybe Sam was right. Maybe it wasn’t her owner that did this.

 

They stopped at a little pet supply store in town before her appointment. He wanted to give her a better collar before the vet saw her. He didn’t know why, but that felt important to him. Once he entered the store he noticed eyes on him and Lola. He wanted to say he didn’t do this to her. He would never. But it wasn't concern he saw, it was fear. A few customers pulled their dogs closer and would quickly walk away when they saw them coming. They were afraid of her and she didn’t even know. She just kept smiling. That big goofy grin. It broke his heart.

 

A young woman in a store uniform tapped him on the shoulder and he prepared himself for her to say something disparaging about Lola. He turned around. “What’s her name?”

 

“Um…Lola.”

 

She smiled and kneeled down. “Hi, Lola.” Lola walked up to her and the clerk started petting her. “Can she have a treat?”

 

“Yes.” At this point he had decided that spoiling her was going to be his top priority.

 

The clerk gave Lola a little snack, that she happily gobbled up. “She’s a sweetheart.” She stood The clerk stayed with them and helped Dean pick out a collar. He grimaced a bit at the suggestion of pink, but when they put it around her neck it did seem perfect. They also purchased a matching leash, a dog bed, some more food, some balls that Lola seemed very interested in and more treats. Yep, she was going to be spoiled.

 

When they got to the vet, Dean braced himself for more people turning away from them, but luckily the lobby was pretty empty. He checked in at the front desk and waited for the vet. Lola was surprisingly calm and he wondered how that could be after all she probably went through.  After a few minutes an assistant came out and led them back to a scale. Lola weighed in at forty-five pounds. They were led back to an examination room. He felt his nerves building and he couldn’t stop tapping his foot.

 

After a few minutes, Dr. Reed walked in. She was in her early forties, with short blonde hair and warm blue eyes. “Hi Mr. Winchester, I’m Dr. Reed.” She held out her hand.

 

“It’s Dean.” He shook it and realized that once again he had failed to use an alias. “This is Lola.”

 

She smiled down at Lola and gave her a quick pat on the head. “Hello there, Lola.” She pulled out a little stethoscope and started to examine her. “And you found her in a field?”

 

“Yeah, she was just standing out there, covered in dirt.”

 

“People dump their dogs out there sometimes.”

 

Man, if he ever got a hold of the person who did that...“So, you think that’s what happened to her?”

 

“I can’t say for sure, but that would be my guess.”

 

“We put a flyer out to see and I brought one with me, but-”

 

“No. That’s good. You never know.”

 

“Her ears?”

 

Dr. Reed sighed. “Sadly a lot of people like to do that with this breed. They think it looks better.”

 

“She also has some scars on her.”

 

“I saw. They look older.” She stood up. “I want to test her for heartworm and get her updated on vaccinations. And she should be fixed, but the shelter can do that.”

 

“No. I’m keeping her.”

 

“Well, that’s really nice of you, but-”

 

“Look, I’ll pay you or do whatever you need, but I’m not taking her there.”

 

“Okay, well the heartworm test and vaccines aren’t cheap.”

 

“I don’t care. I want to keep her.”

 

Dr. Reed gave him a sad smile. “That’s really sweet, but are you sure? Having a pit bull comes with a lot of challenges.”

 

“Hey, I’ve had to deal with a hell of a lot worse, believe me.”

 

She looked between him and Lola. “Okay. Fine. But I’ll still put up the missing sign and if anyone comes looking for her that will have to be sorted out.”

 

“Fine.”

 

“And if no one comes forward within a week, you’ll have to get her spayed.”

 

“Deal.”

 

She smiled. “Okay. I’ll start the test.”

 

“Um...what if she has heartworm?”

 

He saw that sad smile again. “We’ll talk about that if we need to.” He nodded and tried to not get too worried. Dr. Reed finished the examination and did the test. She said that they could check the bloodwork there and should know whether or not she had it.

 

They waited for another fifteen minutes and then Dr. Reed came back to let him know it was negative. He thanked her and he left his contact info and promised to call in a week to schedule her spay surgery if no owner had turned up. He crossed his fingers that he would be making that call.

 

* * *

 

The next day was therapy and the day Sam and Beth were heading back to California. Dean helped them get the car packed and they spent about ten minutes saying goodbye to Lola. She was already a part of their family and he wanted to go tear down every single found dog poster they had put up. They made Dean promise to call to keep them up to date on Lola and if anything else came up.

 

About an hour after they left Dean had to head out to therapy. He didn’t want to leave Lola behind, but he didn’t know how Laura would react. He could trust Cas with her. She followed Dean around while he got ready and when he headed toward the door she tried to come with him. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You have to stay here with Cas.” She looked a little sad, but she stayed. “Call me if-”

 

“We’ll be fine, Dean.”

 

“Yeah, of course.” He smiled and gave Lola one last pat before he headed out.

 

He sat in Laura’s office filled with nerves. He had already sent three texts to Cas before his appointment to make sure everything was okay. Man, he was being ridiculous. He was trying to concentrate on whatever Laura was telling him, but all he could think about was Lola and wondering if she was okay. But she was okay. She was with Cas in a secure bunker. But what if- “Dean? Did you hear me?”

 

Oh right, he was in therapy. “Um...sorry. What?”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

“Yeah. Sorry, what did you ask me?”

 

“I was just wondering how things were. Did you meet Sam’s girlfriend?”

 

He glanced down at the pocket holding his phone and then back up. “Um...yeah, Beth. She came and they left. You know she has a house in California and she need to pack and...do you mind if I check my phone?”

 

“Um, sure, but-” Dean pulled out the phone so quickly it nearly dropped on the floor. He checked it and nothing. “What’s going on, Dean?”

 

He set the phone down on his lap. “Well, I...I just...I kind of found a dog.”

 

She smiled. “That’s wonderful.”

 

“Well, she’s not really mine yet. I mean I found her in a field.”

 

“In a field?”

 

“Yeah, she was covered in dirt and she has scars all over her body and her ears...the vet said that dogs get dumped sometimes.” He glanced down at the phone again. “And anyway, we hung signs, but I mean no one will come forward. Not after leaving her like a piece of...I mean in a week she’ll be mine.” He looked down at the phone again and his knee wouldn’t stop bouncing.

 

“Dean?”

 

He looked at her. “Yeah?”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

He put a hand over his knee, trying to stop it from moving. “I’m fine, I’m just...God, it’s so stupid. It’s just a dog.” He leaned back a bit, trying to relax. “I’m sorry.”

 

“You don’t need to apologize.”

 

“Her name is Lola.”

 

“You named her?” There was concern there. Her eyes were clearly saying, _Don’t name it till it’s really yours._

 

“No. No. She had a tattered collar when we found her and a tag with that name.” A look of relief crossed her face. “Believe me it wouldn’t be my first choice for a name, but in a way it kind of fits her”

 

“What kind of dog is she?”

 

“She’s a pit bull.” He watched her face to see if there would be any disgust or fear there. He was relieved to see none.

 

“I had a pit lab mix when I was a kid. One of the best dogs I’ve ever known.”

 

“I took her to a pet store the other day and people looked at her like...like she was damaged or poison.”

 

“People have preconceived notions of what a pit bull is.”

 

“She has this huge smile on her face almost all the time. And she snores, man does she snore, but she’s just innocence. And she trusts me even after everything she must have been through.”

 

“You really love this dog, don’t you?”

 

“What? I mean I...I just found her and she might be taken and I…” He looked down at his phone. No messages. “Yeah. I do.”

 

“I can tell.”

 

“You know Sam left this morning with beth to help her pack up her stuff and for the first time I wasn’t freaked out. I mean yes, that worry is there. It always will be, but now I just...is it ridiculous that I feel this way about a dog?”

 

“Not at all.”

 

“She snuck into my bed last night. She gave me those puppy dog eyes that I used to get from Sam all the time. But she finally got off the bed after a few minutes.” He smiled. “Weird thing was I kind of missed her being there.”

 

“A lot of people let their dogs sleep in the bed with them.”

 

“You don’t think that’d be weird?”

 

“No. Not at all.” She shifted in her seat and he could tell she was going to get serious on him. “Dean, I do want you to prepare yourself for the possibility that someone could come forward for her. It doesn’t mean they would get her, but I need you to be prepared for that.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you really?”

 

“Yes. But even if they do, I’m gonna fight like hell to keep her. I know what it’s like to feel like you’re unwanted. Like your poison. I don’t want her to feel that way anymore.”

 

“I’m proud of you, Dean. This is a huge step.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“So, how was it meeting Sam’s girlfriend?”

 

“It was good, actually. She’s sweet and strong as hell. She’s a lot like Sam. I think she’s good for him.”

 

“And you’re okay with her moving in?”

 

“Yeah. I actually am. I mean I still worry about it and I don’t want him to get hurt, but she’s a good person.”

 

“Are you worried about him going back to California?”

 

“Yes and no. I mean there’s always this part of me that will be worried about him leaving and not coming back, but I trust he’ll come back this time.”

 

“That’s great progress. You should be so proud of yourself.”

 

“Yeah. We may have to reschedule our group therapy though.”

 

“That’s okay.”

 

“So, you really think it’s okay to let a dog sleep in the bed with you?”

 

She chuckled. “It’s perfectly fine.”

 

“Good.” He smiled and glanced down at his phone. There was a text from Cas. It was just a picture of Lola and her smile. He smiled at the screen. “Do you wanna see a picture of Lola?”

 

“Sure.” He leaned forward and showed her the picture. She smiled. “She’s a cutie.”

 

He leaned back, looking at the screen. “I’m kind of annoying, huh?”

 

“What? Why would you say that?”

 

“I’m staring at a picture of a dog on my phone. I mean...it’s cheesy.”

 

“It’s human.”

 

“I’m scared. I’m scared I’m gonna lose her and I just got her.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I keep thinking about what you said, about how I deserve to be happy. I still don’t know if I believe that, but I think I want to.”

 

“That’s huge. Dean, what you’ve done, taking this dog in, that’s a big step. That’s a good thing. I know it’s scary, but it’s progress.”

 

“So, does that mean I’m almost cured.” He gave her his best cocky smile.

 

She laughed. “Nothing to cure. But you’re getting better.”

 

“Yeah. I’m trying.” He looked down at his phone and smiled.  

 

* * *

_Author's Note: I finally figured out the picture thing. Below are several photos of Lola. Sorry if the layout is weird._  

 

 

 [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/149449883@N08/34878963492/in/photostream/) [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/149449883@N08/34878962472/in/photostream/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the dog in this story is based on a dog that I worked with at the shelter I volunteer at. Her name was also Lola and she is in the pictures above. If anyone can tell me, I can edit it to add those. <3\. She was at the shelter in 2014 and was there for quite a few months before getting adopted. I worked with her in what is known as the real life room. It basically mimics a real room in a house and is used to get dogs some more one on one time with people and for training and such. I LOVED Lola and she remains my absolute favorite dog I have ever met at the shelter. I would have gladly adopted her, but she was iffy with other dogs and my dog can be picky when it comes to other dogs. Anyway, she was very attached to me and that was really hard to deal with. So, I was so glad for her when she finally found her home. I knew I wanted her to be the dog he gets the second I decided to write a dog in here. It has been kind of emotional writing this and remembering her. 
> 
> I also want to take a minute to talk about the pit bull thing. I am a big pit bull and dog activist. I have met dozens of pit bulls in the shelter and not a single one has been anything other than loving. I am going to be bending the facts a little when it comes to BSL (Breed Specific Legislation) in this story because I want Dean to have Lola. 
> 
> I really hope you guys like the direction I'm taking this. I had never planned on the dog route or giving Sam a love interest, but that's the direction it naturally took. And Lola is going to be a huge turning point that will bring some other surprises. 
> 
> Okay, I'm done. Thanks again everyone. The feedback and support I have gotten has meant more to me than I can say. I'm my own worse critic, but the words that have been left her for me have helped me to have some confidence in the work I am creating. So hugs and love to all of you. <3
> 
> ETA: I figured out how to upload images!!! Yay!


	13. Two More Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Dean be able to keep Lola?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad that everybody loved Lola. Hope you continue to like where I'm taking this. This chapter is filled with angst and some fluff. Warning: There are mentions of implied violence involving children. It is brief and toward the end. Also, some implications of past dog abuse. Thanks again for reading!

Just two more days Lola would be his. No one one had come forward and if they did he could just run with her. Yes, he could do that. He was a hunter. He could outrun some goddamn coward that got his kicks from hurting a dog. He looked over at Lola. She was eating her breakfast, blissfully unaware of any pending doom. Unaware that his world could be turned upside down at any moment. That she could be taken from him and he couldn’t even explain to her why. She finished her breakfast, drank some water, let out a little belch and looked at him with such adoration that it made his heart ache. 

 

“Okay, sweetheart, time to go outside.” She did what could only be described as a little jig and ran to the door. He followed her, leash in hand. Since having her here he had gotten to know the grounds around the bunker well. He probably should’ve done that way before, but he just never took the time. It was actually quite beautiful. They would usually catch the sunrise and sometimes sunset. Spring was in the air and things were blooming all around them. Lola would sniff almost everything they came across, her tail wagging the whole time. She saw beauty and wonder in the simplest things. Once they came across a frog and she approached it with a bit of trepidation. Dean wasn’t sure if he should stop it. Would the frog hurt her? Would she think it was a toy or would she want to hunt it? She sniffed it once and then it jumped. She let out a little bark and then ran back to him, glued to his side. He tried not to laugh. 

 

Dean had never been one for taking long walks in nature, but now he had to. Funny thing was he was starting to enjoy it. He liked watching the changing colors in the sky and in nature. Watching things blooming and coming back to life. He was happy. Actually happy. And it scared the shit out of him. Optimism was never his strong suit. How could it be? But he wanted to be optimistic. He wanted to believe that there was no way this could end. That he would wake up every morning experiencing this beauty. This simplicity. Two more days. Two more days and it could be his forever or at least for a little while. 

 

Sam and Beth checked in daily and they didn’t even hide the fact that they mainly just wanted updates on Lola. He didn’t mind and in a way it put his mind at ease. They would come back. If not for him, surely for her. It struck him that that might be selfish. That maybe he was using Lola to ensure that his brother would stay. That he would have a family. But then Lola would smile at him and he knew it was more than that. She was becoming family. 

 

Lola had taken to sleeping in his bed. She would start at the end, just curled up and snoring. But Dean often woke up to find her sprawled out next to him, her head on the other pillow, just snoring away. He would lie awake some mornings just watching her. Was it weird to watch your dog sleep? Sometimes she would let out a little whimper, her paws moving, and he would put a hand on her side to calm her. He didn’t know what she was dreaming about. Were they nightmares or was she simply exploring the world? But no matter if they were good or bad, he would put his hand on her side. She would calm and set back to the peaceful snoring. 

 

Lola and Cas seemed to have their own special way of communicating. It shouldn’t surprise him that an angel and a dog would communicate in a different way. Cas would sit in front of her, looking her right in the eye. He would smile and pet her and she would seem to be in a state of utter bliss. He found himself feeling jealous of this at times. Which he knew was ridiculous. Lola always chose to sleep in his room. She always chose to sit next to him when they would watch a movie and she would always give him those puppy dog eyes when he would leave. But they didn’t have that angel dog communication thing or whatever it was. He wished he could calm her the way Cas could. But he could quiet her dreams. He could make her feel at home. Home? Two more days.

 

Lola loved playing ball. Like, loved it like Dean loved classic rock and driving fast. Dean would be sitting, trying to read or relax and she would bring the tennis ball over, dropping it at his feet, and look at him with a smile and a glimmer of hope. He would usually give in right away and take her down to the dungeon to throw the ball. Yeah, a dungeon may have seemed like a weird place to play fetch with a dog. He knew that. But it just felt safer than letting her run around off leash outside. Cas had tried to convince him that she wouldn’t run, that she was home. But he didn’t want to take the chance. Sometimes Dean wouldn’t give in right away. He would tell her he was reading or that he wanted to watch some T.V. But Lola knew how to get to him. She would set her head down on his knee and look up at him, a little pout with no sadness behind it. He would try and resist, but he never made it past the minute mark. She had him wrapped around her little paw. 

 

As much as she loved ball, Lola loved belly rubs more. She would roll over on her back in submission and just wait for someone to rub her belly. Her fur was so thin on her stomach that it was barely there and Dean worried that maybe she was cold when she would lie on the floor. He contemplated getting her one of those dog coats he saw at the pet store. It couldn’t hurt, right? He made a note that he would get one before winter came. 

 

He would notice the little scars on her belly and try not to cry. He couldn’t imagine anyone laying a hand on her in anger. The thought of it would keep him awake at night. The thought of that person trying to come back into her life would make him feel sick with rage. He knew if he ever met the person that hurt her he would kill them. He hoped that never happened. Two more days and she would never have to know that pain again. 

 

Dr. Reed had called to check in a couple of times, wanting to make sure Lola was okay, but probably also wanting to make sure that Dean was real and on the up-n-up. She called on the two day mark to remind him of the appointment they had scheduled for her spay. It was on the day that she would become his. His. He confirmed and took down the instructions. He had circled the day on a little calendar he had printed out. Two more days. Two more days. 

 

* * *

 

It was the one day mark. Lola was sound asleep, unaware. Dean was sitting up in bed, trying to concentrate on some movie, but he just kept watching the clock. She was almost his. It was almost real. “Just tone more day to go girl.” He gave her a little pat on the head and returned to watching whatever movie he was trying to concentrate on. 

 

Every time his phone would ring he would jump, fear spreading through him. The first call was from Sam, wanting to check and see if there were any changes. They were getting everything packed up and the hunters that were taking over the place would be coming into town in a few days. Dean could tell that he was nervous too. He kept trying to reassure Dean. Kept saying no one would come for her. That she was his now. But he knew that some of that reassurance was for himself. 

 

He could barely eat. He tried a grilled cheese sandwich, but it made his stomach turn. She had no problem eating. She asked to play ball. Took in every sniff of the outside that she could and asked for as many belly rubs as possible. It was just another normal day for her. He hoped it would always be that way. 

 

The day was half over when Dean grabbed his car keys and Lola’s leash. “Come on, let’s go for a drive.” She cocked her head to the side and he noticed a little glimmer of worry. There was no smile on her face and she didn’t run to the door like she normally would. She had never looked at him like that before. He patted his side. “Come on. Car ride.” She took a step back and looked down at the floor. “Don’t you want to go for a ride.” He headed toward the door, but Lola stayed put. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to push. Didn’t want to force her to do something she didn’t want to do. He decided to try the tennis ball. He grabbed it and gestured toward the door. “Come on. We can go play ball.” She looked away and laid down on the floor. What was going on? It was the same thing he had always said. Except for his nerves and fear at what might...and then it hit him like a ton of bricks. He felt sick. Was this how that person looked? Did he tell her they were going for a drive before he decided to dump her like a piece of trash? He swallowed and kneeled down in front of her. He smiled and reached a hand out to touch her. “I won’t ever abandon you. Not ever.”  _ Please God, don’t make me break that promise _ , he thought. He sat there petting her for a few minutes until he felt her relax. He gave her a little kiss on the forehead and her smile returned. She was light again and when he asked if she wanted to go for a car ride she ran past him and headed to the door. One more day.

 

They drove around, Lola’s head out the window, her smile never fading. He took her to the local pet store and bought her a few new balls and some treats. Maybe he shouldn’t be buying her things. Maybe he should wait. But he didn’t care. And then he saw it. Peanut butter and bacon flavored dog ice cream. He couldn’t believe they actually made that. “Okay, there is no way we’re leaving without that.” He looked down at Lola and she looked up at him with a look that basically said,  _ No shit. _ He laughed and grabbed the ice cream. 

 

Dean had stopped at a Dairy Queen on their way back to the bunker and grabbed himself a chocolate brownie blizzard. If Lola was having ice cream, so was he. He scooped out a generous portion of her ice cream and set it in her dog dish. Her eyes were as wide as saucers and he swore he saw some drool. She was definitely his dog. His dog. He watched her enjoying the frozen treat and he finished his blizzard. The first thing he was able to finish all day. One more day. 

 

The sun had set. It was dark out. He still had Lola and the day was almost up. The week was almost over. Was this really happening? Was he really getting to hold on to happiness? He had to drop her off at the vet in the morning. She said he would be able to pick up her up in the afternoon and then it would be real. She would be his forever. Lola jumped up on the bed and curled up at the end. She glanced at him and then put her head down. “Goodnight sweetheart.” He watched her fall asleep. He listened to her snore and he looked over at the clock. The one more day was almost up. It was almost real. 

 

* * *

 

He woke up to a cold nose pushing against his hand. He tried to push it away, but it became more insistent. He opened his eyes and remembered. Lola. She was staring down at him, her tail wagging. “Okay. Okay. I’m getting up.” He glanced at his phone; six in the morning. He had to get her to the vet at eight. The vet. The appointment. He smiled and jumped up. “Guess what, Lola? You’re mine. You’re all mine!” She did a little spin on the floor and he knew she couldn’t possibly know what he was saying, but he pretended that she did. Dr. Reed had said no food and no water. He had no idea how Lola would react to that. He grabbed his robe and followed her down the hall to the kitchen. She stopped in front of her food bowl and looked up at him. “Sorry. No breakfast today.” She pawed at the bowl and then looked back up at him. “I promise I will give you a huge dinner tonight.” She stood looking at her bowl for another minute and then seemed to give-up. She walked over to him and looked up at him. “Wanna go outside?” Her tail wagged and she did that little jig. She ran to the door and he grabbed her leash. 

 

They were walking the grounds, Lola exploring any new scents that had arrived. He glanced at his phone. They had about an hour till they had to leave. Till he had to drop her off for surgery. Surgery. It was the day of her surgery. This was it. She was really gonna be his. He sent a quick text to Sam to let him know. It would be four thirty there, but he had a feeling that Sam was up. His phone chirped two minutes later, a simple smiley face emoji. She was his. 

 

Dean was a nervous wreck. He had never had to drop a dog off for surgery before. She had been fine at the vet before, but he hadn’t had to leave her then. Fuck. He would have to leave her. He didn’t know if he could do that. They arrived about five minutes early. He took Lola on a walk around the grounds. She sniffed a bit and did her business. They walked into the office and were greeted by the same veterinary assistant. She smiled and looked down at Lola. She gave her a quick pat on the head and reached for her leash. Dean hesitated. “I don’t take her back?”

 

“You can, but sometimes it’s easier this way.” He looked down at Lola and she looked up at him. Pure trust. Pure love. Could he do this? 

 

“She...will she think I’m...she was abandoned before and I-” He ran his hand down his face.

 

“She’ll be fine. And you can pick her up this afternoon. She’ll be out of it most of the time.” 

 

“Yeah, okay.” He let out a breath and knelt down. He smiled at Lola and tried to fight the tears that wanted to fall. “I’ll be back soon. I promise.” He gave her a quick kiss on her forehead and stood up, handing the leash over. 

 

“We’ll call you when she’s done and let you know when you can pick her up.” He nodded his head, afraid that if he spoke he’d fall apart. He watched as she walked her away. Lola kept looking back at him. That same fear in her eyes that she had the other day. She probably thought he was leaving her. God, he hated this. He tried to smile. Tried to give her some reassurance, but the fear was written across her face. He wanted to throw-up. He watched as she turned the corner and disappeared from view. He fell down into one of the seats in the waiting room and cried. 

 

* * *

 

The day crawled by. Dean was a wreck. He paced in his room. Tried to go for a drive. Looked for a case. But all he could think about was Lola stuck there and thinking he was not returning. And then the other thoughts came. What if they were lying to him? What if they were taking her to the shelter? What if she didn’t make it through surgery? What if- Dean’s phone rang and he nearly dropped it trying to answer. It was the vet calling to let him know the surgery was done and she was resting. He could pick her up after four. Okay. Now he could breath. Or he at least he’d try. He set an alarm on his phone, but he knew he didn’t need it. He tried to distract himself. He did some work on Baby, cleaned the bunker and watched some movie with Cas. 

 

He left the bunker at three. He knew he would get there too early, but he didn’t want Lola to wait any longer than she had to. He pulled into the parking lot at half past three. He listened to some music. Got out and stretched a bit. Sent a quick text to Sam. It was ten till when he walked into the vet’s office. He checked in and they said he would need to wait a few minutes. He sat in the lobby, staring at the door that Lola had disappeared behind. 

 

At five past four, he heard his name. He looked up and saw Dr. Reed, but no Lola. He felt fear creep into his blood. He stood up. “Is she okay?”

 

She smiled. “Yes, she’s fine. She’ll be out in just a moment. I just wanted to go over a few things first.” 

 

“Yeah, okay.” She told him about after care and making sure to keep the stitches clean. She said that if Lola started licking them too much to bring her in for a cone. “She’s going to seem a little out of it for the rest of the day, but it’s normal. She should be herself tomorrow.” He nodded and watched as she walked away to get Lola. 

 

He licked his lips and stared at the door. A minute later it opened and Lola was there. She looked a little groggy and her smile wasn’t quite there. She looked around and then saw him. And despite the grogginess she smiled and pulled on the leash. Dr. Reed let her go and she ran to him, or as close to running as she could do. She kind of collapsed into him, her tail wagging and doing a groggy version of her little jig. She covered his face in kisses and he laughed. “I told you I’d be back.” He grabbed her leash, waved goodbye, and led her to the car. 

 

He let her sit in the passenger seat on the drive back. And about five minutes into the ride she lay her head down in his lap and fell asleep. The beautiful sounds of her snore filling the car. He realized that this was what unconditional love was. He had left her and she wasn’t angry. Wasn’t scared of him. She just loved him. Him. Did he really deserve that love?

 

* * *

 

Lola was herself the next day and she only tried to lick her stitches once. Dean told her no and that was it. No more licking. She was a perfect dog. No one could tell him otherwise. He had therapy the next day and Cas had already agreed to watch her, but he kind of wanted to take her with him. That was crazy though. Laura would never allow that, would she? The building probably had a no dog policy anyway. But it couldn’t hurt to try. He left her a jumbled message on her voicemail and figured she would call back saying she was sorry, but he couldn’t bring a dog to therapy. To his surprise, she called back an hour later and told him that was fine. He smiled and looked down at Lola. “Guess you’re in therapy now.” 

 

He made sure to get to Laura’s office a few minutes early. He wanted to make sure that Lola had a chance to go to the bathroom beforehand. The last thing he wanted was for her to have an accident in her office. Not that Lola had ever had an accident before, but he’d rather not take the chance. She finished going to the bathroom and Dean led her toward the elevator. The doors opened and she froze. “Come on, girl.” She wouldn’t budge. She just kept looking at the doorway to the elevator like it might eat her alive. He thought about just taking the stairs, but something in him told him he had to show her that it wasn’t anything to be afraid of. He reached a hand inside the elevator and held the “door open” button. He knelt down as far as he could, feeling his arm twisting a bit. It wasn’t the most comfortable position to be in, but he was determined to do this. “It’s okay. I promise.” He gave her a reassuring pat on the head with his hand that was holding the leash. She looked up at him, searching his eyes for something. And after a few seconds she took a step forward. “That’s a good girl.” Dean stepped into the elevator, keeping one hand on the button and the other on the doorway. Lola followed, a little hesitation as she crossed the threshold, then sat down and looked up at him. He smiled and let the doors close. 

 

Laura had set out a little bowl of water for Lola and had even brought her some treats. She offered one and Lola eagerly ate it up. “Thanks again for letting me bring her.”

 

She gave Lola a little scratch behind the ears and sat down. “It’s no problem. I’m proud of you for asking.” He wasn’t sure why that should make her feel proud, but he felt himself smiling as he sat down on the sofa. Lola took a few sips of water and then walked back to Dean and curled up at his feet. “She’s really gorgeous.”

 

“Yeah, I kinda like her.” 

 

She chuckled softly and opened up her notebook. “So, how does it feel to know that she’s really yours?”

 

“Amazing. Weird. Great.”

 

“Why weird?”

 

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a pet before, so that’s kind of weird.” He glanced down at Lola. She looked so peaceful. A lot calmer than she did at the elevator earlier. “She’s so innocent. Almost like a child. It’s weird to be around that.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“The other day we were on a walk and there was this frog just sitting on the path in front of us. Lola hesitated for a moment and then went up to give it a sniff. I wasn’t sure if I should pull her back or if she was going to try and attack it. Then the frog like hopped toward her and she took a step back, like she was afraid. Here was this tiny creature that she could’ve easily killed and she was afraid of it.” He softly smiled. “It’s like all she is light and my life...the life I lead...I don’t know, it’s anything but that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t want to ever take that light away.”

 

“Dogs are innocent. They are pure in a lot of ways. I can see why that might seem weird.” She glanced down at Lola, looking at her ears and then back up at Dean. “But I think Lola may have already seen some darkness in her life.”

 

He pulled on his bottom lip, remembering the elevator. The look on her face when he asked her to go for a ride. The tiny scars that dotted her stomach. “She was scared to get in the elevator. I mean I don’t know if that has anything to do with the scars she has, but it was different than with the frog. It was like she was remembering something. Like some scar inside her was opened.” He closed his eyes and turned toward the window. “It breaks me a little to think about that.”

 

“Because she’s so innocent?” He nodded. “She has you now.”

 

He nodded trying to assure himself that that was enough. “How can I care so much about a dog?”

 

“Because of all the things you just mentioned.”

 

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I let her sleep in the bed with me.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“It was actually really nice to have something else there with me.”

 

“How is everyone else with her?”

 

“Well, Sam and Beth are still in California. Cas loves her.” He chuckled. “They have this weird staring thing they do. I always thought you weren’t supposed to stare at a dog, but for some reason it relaxes her. They all love her.” He reached his hand down and gave her a little scratch behind her ear. “She’s pretty much perfect.” Laura chuckled.

 

“How is it not having Sam around?”

 

“It’s fine really. I mean I’ve been so wrapped up in the dog that I-” He didn’t really know how to finish that sentence.

 

“That you what?”

 

“Nothing. It’s just I haven’t really...I haven’t really missed him.” He looked down, feeling some shame at that.

 

“Dean, that’s perfectly fine.”

 

“My whole life I’ve had to worry about him, you know? It’s almost like my second skin. But not worrying about him. Not missing him. I don’t know, that feels so foreign to me. Like I should be ashamed or something.”

 

“Dean, it’s a good thing. You deserve a break from that burden.” He looked up and she quickly put her hand up. “I’m not saying Sam’s a burden. I’m saying the constant worry and feeling like you had to be second, that is something you deserve a break from. Maybe now you can finally let him go. And not letting him go as in saying goodbye to him, but to just be his brother. His friend. Not his parent.”

 

He swallowed. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

 

“I know. But you’re taking a step and that’s a good thing.” He nodded. “Have you thought about maybe finding someone like Sam has?”

 

“We’ve been over this before.”

 

“I know. You said your life wasn’t something you could bring someone into.” He nodded. “But Sam has.”

 

“Yeah, but that’s different.”

 

“How?”

 

“She’s in the same line of work. She understands the life we lead.”

 

“Okay, so find someone like that.”

 

He opened his mouth to protest, but wasn’t sure what to say. “It’s not…” She just looked at him, challenging him to find a way out of it. He crossed his arms. “I’m just not that kind of person.”

 

“Not that kind of person?”

 

“Yeah. You know the loving one woman kind of person.”

 

She actually rolled her eyes. “I”m sorry, Dean, but that’s bullshit.” 

 

It was like the second time he had heard her swear and it took him off guard. He looked down at his hands. “Well, don’t sugarcoat it or anything.”

 

“You’ve been coming her for a little over a year now.”  _ Jesus. It had been that long. _ “So I think that gives me some insight into who you are. And before you say it, I know I don’t know everything about you. I know there are things that you don’t want to tell me and I know that whatever it is that you do for a living has nothing to do with sales.” Dean looked up at her, his mouth slightly agape. He thought he was doing such a good job hiding it. Maybe he really wasn’t that great a liar. “I have a feeling that whatever it is is dangerous in some way. Something that makes you think it isn’t safe for anyone else to enter into. I get that. I do. It makes sense. You’ve lived your whole life basically on the run. It’s hard to settle down.” She leaned forward. “But that doesn’t mean that you’re not the kind of guy that can love someone. More importantly, that doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve to be loved by someone.”

 

He glanced away. He felt on edge. Felt like running. She knew he had been lying and she still thought he was worth something. Still thought he was worth helping. God, that was terrifying. “Dean, look at me.” He continued to stare out the window. “Come on, stop trying to hide and look at me.” He swallowed and slowly turned to face her. “I know you think that you have this tough exterior. That no one can see who you really are. That you’re just all brawn and just some macho guy with a fast car. But that’s not you. You gave up your childhood to raise your brother. You gave up any future, so he could try and have one. You took in some stranger and made him a part of your family. When you talk about the people you love, and there are a lot of people you love, your face lights up. You are so full of love, that it practically flows off of you.”

 

“But I’ve done some horrible things. Things that you...you’d run screaming if I told you. You’d probably want to lock me up.”

 

“I’ve done bad things, Dean. I’ve hurt people and I’ve made huge mistakes. Do you think that I don’t deserve love?”

 

“No.”

 

“How about Sam? He’s made some mistakes, right?” He nodded. “Do you think he should be without love? Without happiness?”

 

“No. Of course not.”

 

“Okay, then why is it that you believe that you don’t deserve that.” He looked down at Lola. “You rescued Lola. She looks at you like you are the greatest thing in the world, right?” He nodded. “Shouldn’t that tell you something?”

 

“Yeah, but she’s just a dog.”

 

Laura let out a little sigh and he was worried she was about to give up on him. “When are you going to really hear me and believe that you deserve to be happy?”

 

“Why do you care so much?”

 

“Because you deserve to have someone looking out for you. Someone that doesn’t need anything from you.”

 

“Like a parent.”

 

She gave him a sad look and he was instantly aware that he may have crossed some line. “No. I can’t be that.” She gave him a soft smile. “But I can be the person who can help you to heal. Help you to be open to the love that you deserve.”

 

“How long have you known that I was lying to you about what I do?”

 

“I’ve known salespeople. Even traveling salespeople. And they aren’t so afraid for other’s safety.” He glanced away, feeling a little blush creep up on his cheeks. “Plus, you scope out the room every time you enter it.” 

 

He didn’t even realize he was doing that. “I’m sorry that I lied and I know you probably want to-”

She held her hand up. “You can tell me when you want to tell me. I work for you, Dean. I’m here to help you.”

 

He wrung his hands and glanced over at Lola. She was still curled up at his feet. “I feel it, that happiness thing. I feel it with Lola and it scares me.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I just...I’m trying to understand why she loves me. But I’m scared that somehow she’ll realize that I’m not this perfect person she thinks I am.” He chewed on his lower lip. “That’s ridiculous. I know.” Lola stood up and walked over to Dean. She placed her head in his lap and looked up at him. 

 

“She loves you. Not for anything you give her. Not just because you saved her. She loves you for you.” He pet her and she leaned into his hand. “She sees past those walls you like to pretend you have up. You saved her. You did. Maybe she’s returning the favor.” Lola looked up at him, that beautiful smile and those trusting eyes. Maybe she was right. 

 

He left his appointment feeling drained, a little sad, but oddly hopeful. He wasn’t ready yet to believe everything Laura had said, he rarely was right away. But he was ready to try and that was something, right? He walked Lola around the parking lot for a minute, making sure she went to the bathroom before getting back in the car. She sat in the passenger seat for the ride back, her head out the window, the smile never fading. 

 

* * *

 

A couple days later Dean received a call from Donna. He hadn’t talked to her in awhile and he was happy to see her name pop up on the caller id. But then he heard her voice and he knew this wasn’t just a friendly check-in. Apparently there was a vamps nest just outside of Stillwater and she was afraid it was more than she could handle. She said she was going to call Jody, but she didn’t want to put her in the line of fire this time. “I’m sorry, Dean. I just-” Her voice was shaky and raw, like she had been crying. He wanted to ask her what was wrong, but he thought better of it.

 

“It’s okay. I’m glad you called. Cas and I can head out tonight.”

 

“Where’s Sam?”

 

“He’s in California. Long story. I’ll tell ya when I get there.” She told him to drive safely and he hung up the phone. He looked down and Lola was sitting in front of him, her ball on the ground. Shit, what was he going to do with her. He didn’t want her to go on a hunt with him. That would be too much danger for her. He contemplated calling the vet, seeing if she knew anyone, but he wasn’t sure he felt comfortable with that. Lola pushed the ball toward him. “Sorry, sweetheart, no ball right now.” She just looked up at him with hopeful eyes. Man, what was he gonna do with her? “Hey, Cas, we got a case!” Dean called out. “Well, you ready for your first road trip?” 

 

He knew it was probably a bad idea. It would probably be dangerous or stupid, but he couldn’t leave her behind. He figured he could leave at their motel or maybe at Donna’s. Man, I’m sure she’s gonna love that. Maybe she would. He knew he probably should’ve looked up the BSL laws. What if someone tried to take Lola away? Well, he would never let that happen anyway. It would be fine. It had to be. 

 

They arrived at Donna’s a little after ten that night. Lola was snoring in the back and even Cas looked a little stiff from the drive. She had texted him when he was about halfway there to let him know that they were staying with her, no buts about it. He knew he should have prepared her for the fact they were bringing a dog along, but he didn’t have the nerve. Better to just surprise her. Real good thinking there. Cas looked back at Lola and then at Dean. “She’s gonna love her.”

 

“Let’s hope so or we’re gonna need to find a motel to stay at fast.” He grabbed the leash and his bag. “Time to get up Lola.” She jumped up, yawned and gave him her signature smile. “Just work that smile and we won’t lose.” He put the leash on her and she jumped out of the car and followed them to the front door. 

 

Donna swung the door open before he had a chance to knock. “Hey, guys! How was-” She looked down and saw Lola. “Holy geez, you have a dog.”

 

“Donna, meet Lola.”

 

She looked at Dean. “Lola? You have a dog named Lola?”

 

“Yeah, but I didn’t name her.”

 

Her jaw was a little slack and he was starting to worry that she was going to send them packing. But then she looked down at Lola and gave her a little pat. She wagged her tail and gave Donna a kiss. “Well, hello there cutie pie.” She shook her head. “Well, come on now, let’s go inside.” Dean let out a breath and followed her inside.

 

She set out a bowl of water for Lola and gave her a couple of cookies from the bag Dean brought along. “I’m sorry that I just sprung her on you like this. I just-”

 

“Don’t worry about it. She’s a cutie.” Donna was watching Lola with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and she looked like she may have been crying.

 

“Yeah.” Lola finished drinking some water and headed toward the back door. He was impressed that she had already figured that out. “Is that okay if she-”

 

“Oh yeah. Fenced yard and everything.” She opened the backdoor and let Lola out. She shut it and turned back to smile at them, but there was a sadness to it. “So, I have a guest room, but only one bed.”

 

“Dean can take it. I don’t sleep.”

 

“Well, that’s convenient.”

 

“And sometimes boring.” 

 

“I can imagine.” She chuckled, but there was no humor behind it.

 

“Hey, Cas, do you mind if I talk to Donna alone for a minute?”

 

“Of course. I’ll go see how Lola’s doing.” He walked past them, giving Donna a little pat on the shoulder as he headed outside.

 

“Do you want something to drink? A beer maybe?” She shook her head. “Sorry.”

 

“It’s okay. Do you have coffee?”

 

“I can do that.” She prepared two cups of instant. It wasn’t the best, but the cream and sugar cut down on the bitterness. She led them into the living room and they sat on the couch. There were a couple of files on the coffee table. “So, I have the information in the file. All the recent deaths and-”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

She swallowed. “Yeah, just tired.” She touched the file, but didn’t open it. 

 

Dean set his coffee down and turned toward her. “Hey, it’s me.”

 

“She was so young.” Her lip quivered. “Couldn’t have been more than twelve”

 

“A vamp?”

 

She nodded and took in a shaky breath. “They’re all so young.” She closed her eyes. “She came at me and I had...she had killed another...I didn’t want to, but she just-” She turned away from him. He knew now why she didn’t want to involve Jody. She didn’t want to put her through this. Hell, he didn’t know if he could go through it.

 

He placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’s not your fault.” 

 

“I had to cut her...God, Dean she was so young.” She started softly sobbing. 

 

“Hey, look at me.” She slowly turned to face him. He put his hands on her shoulders and she looked up at him. “It’s not your fault.”

 

“I’m so sorry that I dragged you into this.” 

 

He pulled her into a hug. “It’s okay. It’s my job.”

 

“Yeah, well you have a shitty job.” 

 

He let out a soft chuckle. “Tell me about it.” They pulled apart and he gave her a soft smile. “I’m glad you called me.” She gave him a little smile and looked back at the file on the table. Kids. God, how was he gonna handle this.

 

After a few minutes, she dried her eyes and Cas came back in. They sat and went over the case. It looked like the vamps nest was probably in an abandoned house five miles outside of town. Donna had done some great work. There were probably ten of them, mostly young girls. Looked like the one that turned them was some former teacher. Dean felt like he was going to be sick. Cas and him decided they would head over there at dawn, catch them when they were sleeping. Jesus, he wondered if there were any he could save. Any that hadn’t yet tasted blood. 

 

Donna showed Dean to the guest room, Lola following close behind. “Thanks again, Dean. I just-” 

 

He smiled at her and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad you called me, okay?” She nodded. “Goodnight.” 

 

“Goodnight.” She turned to Lola. “Goodnight, Lola.” She turned to leave when Lola leaned into her side. She looked down at her and Lola gave her hand a little nudge. “What is it? You want me to pet you?” Donna knelt down in front of her and gave her a little pat on the head. Lola took a step forward and placed her head in Donna’s lap. She reached her hand out and ran it down Lola’s back, giving her a little scratch behind the ear. Lola looked up at Donna and gave her a kiss. “Wow. You’re a special dog, aren’t you.” Lola gave her another kiss and Donna smiled. A real genuine smile. His dog did that. She really was light.

 

* * *

 

The hunt was a bad one. One that would probably stick with him for years. Sadly they couldn’t save anyone and they returned to Donna’s covered in blood, most of it vamp’s, but a little of it theirs. Donna opened the door and covered her mouth. “Oh my God, are you guys okay?”

 

“Yeah. we’re fine.” She let them in and then Lola ran around the corner. She looked at him and he could see worry on her face. She ran up to him, sniffing him everywhere. “It’s okay, it’s mostly not mine.” She looked up at him and there was no smile on her face. He wondered if she had seen this before. Had she been around this kind of pain before? The thought made his heart hurt. 

 

They spent some time cleaning up and Cas tried to heal Dean’s minor scratches, but he shook his head. “I’m fine.”

 

“I don’t think my grace is going away anytime soon, Dean. Just let me do this. Might make Lola relax.” She hadn’t left Dean’s side and she kept letting out a little cry when she would look at him. Cas was right. He nodded and let Cas heal him. Donna’s mouth was practically on the floor when he was done. 

 

“Wow, that was cool.” Cas smiled at her. 

 

Donna made them a late lunch and he told her about Sam and Beth and how he came to find Lola. Cas threw the ball outside for Lola for a bit while Dean helped Donna clean up the kitchen. “How are you, Dean?”

 

“I’m okay.”

 

“Really?”

 

He dried the dish in his hand and put it away. “That was a rough one. I’ve never had to kill so many…” He rubbed his hand down his face. “You’d think I’d be immune to this stuff by now.”

 

“You wouldn’t be you if you were.”

 

He smiled and continued drying. “How are you?”

 

“Better.” She looked down at the floor. “I um...I’m thinking about quitting the force.”

 

Dean nearly dropped the plate in his hand. “What? Why?”

 

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just...there’s some jerks there now and I just-”

 

“I’ll kick their asses if you’d like.”

 

She chuckled. “No. That’s okay. I mean I know I’m doing good things, but I just...I don’t know. I probably won’t do it.”

 

“You deserve to be happy. So, you do whatever it is that will make you happy. If that’s quitting, you quit.” She looked at him, a big smile on her face. “What?”

 

“Nothing. It’s just-” She turned back to the sink. “Forget it.”

 

“Come on, what is it?”

 

She turned away from the sink and leaned against the counter. “You have no idea how great you are, do you?”

 

“All I said was that you deserve to be happy.”

 

“You had to do something today that...and I know that you’re going through a lot. That you’re having to face things that you don’t want to or that are hard and yet, here you are. Making sure I’m okay. Doing something that I couldn’t do, but that I’m sure is killing you.”

 

“It’s my job.”

 

“Yeah, but it doesn’t make it any easier.” She placed a hand on his arm. “You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had.” He felt a blush creeping up on his neck and he had the urge to turn away from her. Her hand anchored him in place. “I hope you know how incredible you are.”

 

He bit his lip and let out a little chuckle. “Yeah, well, it’s a tough job, but someone’s gotta do it.”

 

“Hey, I’m being serious.”

 

“Yeah, I know.” She gave him a hug and he tried not to melt into it. Tried not to stay in her arms too long. Tried not to cry. But he failed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have so enjoyed writing Lola. When I outlined this part of the series it went in a totally different direction than my muse decided to take it. I hope everyone enjoys reading it. On that note, I did want to say that I am toying with the idea of exploring a love interest for Dean. I have a couple of ideas in mind there, but nothing solid yet. I bring it up because I know I said this wouldn't be a love story, but my muse has taken me in such a different direction already that I am considering it. I do want to say though that it will not be Cas. I mention that because I know a couple people have mentioned it and asked if I could add Destiel in there. Sorry for any disappointment there, but that is not the direction the story will take and just don't want to get anyone's hopes up with the mention of a possible love interest. 
> 
> I appreciate any and all feedback when it comes to this possible path and the story so far. Thanks for all the support. It means the world to me. <3 Just one more chapter left for this part of the series. Already working on part 5.


	14. Taking Risks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beth moves into the bunker.

The days following his trip to Stillwater had been filled with lots of doubt, anger and sadness. He thought he was going to be able to just get over the case. Get over what he had to do when he was out there. But he couldn’t stop seeing their faces in his nightmares. He would wake up in a cold sweat, tears pooling in the corner of his eyes. But every time Lola would be right there, her head resting on his chest. Steading him like he had tried to steady her when she was dreaming.  She was his light through this storm. He could feel himself slipping down a slope that would take him down a path he didn’t want to go. But every time he felt himself reaching for a bottle or taking one step down a hill he couldn’t climb back up, she would be there. Asking him to play ball. Wanting her belly rubbed. Taking him on walks outside the bunker. She was his anchor to this world and little by little the thoughts that consumed him became a little more bearable. 

 

Beth and Sam were heading back to the bunker and would arrive in a couple of days. He felt no dread or nervousness about this. Instead he was excited. Excited to see them. Excited to have them really get to know Lola. Excited to have Beth move in. Cas and him started to get the bunker ready. Clearing space for some of the things she was bringing back with her. Sam said it was only a few boxes, but Dean wanted to make sure she felt at home. He even went out and bought her some organic fruits and veggies. 

 

The day before they were set to return Dean had a therapy appointment. He felt himself feeling grateful for it, but also dreading it. Now that he knew that Laura knew he was lying about what he did for a living he felt guilty. He felt like he should tell her the truth. But he worried that that truth would make her fire him. Or worse yet she would lock him up. 

 

He decided to take Lola with him again. He needed that anchor with him. She made it into the elevator with ease this time. No hesitation at the threshold. She wagged her tail upon seeing Laura and she took her place curled up at Dean’s feet. “How are you?”

 

Dean settled back on the couch, crossing one leg over his knee. “I’m okay. Sam and Beth are coming home tomorrow.”

 

“How do you feel about that?”

 

“Excited actually. I even bought her some organic stuff.” 

 

She let out a little chuckle. “I’m glad, Dean.”

 

“Yeah, me too.”

 

“And everything else?” She gestured toward Lola. 

 

“It’s pretty awesome having a dog. I admit I wasn’t sure it would be this great. I guess I didn’t really know what to expect.” He glanced down at her. “It’s gonna sound cheesy as hell, but she’s like this light. And I don’t get to see much light.” He pursed his lips and blinked.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Nothing, I just...I had a bad job and it just-” He shook his head. “It’s not important.”

 

“Dean, remember this is a safe space.”

 

“I can’t tell you all of it.” But he found he really wanted to. 

 

“Just tell me what you can.”

 

He swallowed. “Donna called a couple days after my last appointment here and she...she had a job that she just couldn’t finish. So she called Cas and I.” He looked down at his hands, hoping he wouldn’t see their blood there. “I’ve seen some awful things in my life. I’ve committed some unforgivable sins. But this. This was on a whole nother level.” He rubbed the back of his neck, still looking down. “My job asks me to do a lot of things that most people couldn’t handle. Hell, I usually needed alcohol to handle it. But I always knew it was something I had to do. It was all for the greater good.” He worried his bottom lip. “But this is one of the ones where it’s hard for me to remember that.” He looked at her for the first time since he started talking. He was surprised to see that she had a calm, but concerned look on her face. No fear of what the possible truth of his story could be. What parts of it he couldn’t tell her. 

 

“How do you handle these things now that you don’t have alcohol?”

 

He shrugged. “I don’t know.” He shook his head and glanced down at Lola. “When we got there Donna was a mess. I could tell she was falling apart inside. Anyway, Lola went to her that night and she just...I mean it was just a simple little thing really. But it made Donna smile. Like really smile. It was like she was a light guiding Donna out of the darkness.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve been having nightmares, you know since that job. Really bad ones. But I’ll wake up and she’s right there to anchor me.”

 

“Dogs can be a great source of comfort. Even therapy.”

 

He smirked. “So, I guess that means I can quit coming here and save some bucks.” 

 

She chuckled. “Not quite.”

 

“I gotta ask you something.”

 

“Shoot.”

 

“Don’t you think this is weird?”

 

“What is?”

 

“This. You knowing that I’m not who I said I was. Aren’t you pissed?” 

 

“Do you want me to be pissed?”

 

“Yes! I mean I don’t know. I’ve been lied to by so many people and I know how much it hurt me.”

 

“I’m not pissed. It’s not my job to dictate what you tell me and what you don’t. I can only try and get you to be as honest with me as possible.”

 

“Yeah, but I haven’t been.” He shook his head. “I’ve been coming here for more than a year and that whole time I was lying to you.”

 

“This is the way I see it, Dean. You’ve been protecting yourself and probably others. You’ve told me as much as you felt you could.”

 

“Yeah, but I was still lying.”

 

“You’ve been incredible honest in here. More so than you give yourself credit for. And if the day comes that you feel safe enough to tell me, you will.”

 

“Aren’t you worried that I could be some crazy person?”

 

“You mean am I worried that you’re a danger?” He nodded. “If I thought that I would do something about it. But no, I don’t.”

 

“What if I can never tell you the truth?”

 

“Then you’ll just tell me whatever you can.” He knew he should be relieved about this. He could get away with saying whatever he felt comfortable with. But he felt a little sick about it. “Dean?” He looked up. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m your therapist for as long as you need me.”

 

“Yeah, okay.” He still didn’t feel right about it. But he tried to push that thought aside and he reached his hand down and touched Lola. His anchor.

 

“Do you want to talk anymore about this job?”

 

“Is this one of those time when you’re gonna push me if I say no?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then no.”

 

“Okay.” She smiled and leaned back in her chair. “What would you like to talk about?”

 

He wasn’t used to being the one to choose. It seemed like whatever they talked about was born out of whatever questions she had for him. “Um...I don’t know.” He wrung his hands and tried to decide what he really wanted to talk about. What he needed to get off his chest. “Donna said that I was one of the best friends she’s ever had. That I was amazing or whatever. It was really weird to hear that.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t know. It’s like I’ve always known my role in life. I’m the older brother. I’m the caretaker. The protector. It’s just weird to have someone care about me like that.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like just as Dean. Like just a friend. Like I can be completely vulnerable and not worry that she’s gonna run away or turn on me. She won’t judge me.’ He shrugged. “I mean Cas is my best friend. He is. I know I can count on him one hundred percent. But being completely vulnerable like that, I don’t know. It’s different somehow.” He looked down at Lola. “It’s different with Lola, too. I mean of course it is because she’s a dog, but it’s like I don’t have to be strong all the time. I don’t have to be ready to fight at any moment. I can break down and she’s there to anchor me. It’s amazing and terrifying all at once.”

 

“Why is it terrifying?”

 

He looked out the window. “Because I don’t want to lose it. I know you said that I am overflowing with love or whatever, but that scares me. It just seems like most people don’t want to see that from me.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Most people seem to just want me to fit the role they’ve cast me in. They want me to be the stronger one. The one that makes everything okay in the end. And when I crack a little I feel like they...like they don’t want me anymore.” He swallowed. “But with Donna I don’t feel that way. It’s like she wants me to just be me. I’m just worried that she’ll get sick of that one day and decide I’m not worth it.”

 

“That she won’t want to be your friend anymore?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“It’s a risk to be someone’s friend. To care about someone. And sometimes they pay off and sometimes they don’t. But the important thing here is that you’re taking that risk.”

 

“I just don’t want to be alone.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You really think I could have what Sam has?”

 

“Yes. I do.”

 

He nodded and tried to believe that. Tried to weigh out the risks that would be involved. 

 

* * *

 

Sam and Beth arrived early the next morning. Beth brought two boxes and two suitcases worth of stuff. Not much, but it was enough to occupy some of the space Dean had cleared for her. They brought Lola a huge bag of goodies. Dean rolled his eyes and made a comment about spoiling her, but he couldn’t help but smile when he saw her eyes light up. There were three new tennis balls, a Kong squeaker ball that was already giving him a headache, a couple of other toys that she seemed somewhat interested in, and two boxes of treats. 

 

Beth thanked them for welcoming her by making them a steak dinner, with only organic steak of course, and the creamiest mashed potatoes he had ever had. The dinner was amazing and Dean would never admit it, but organic steak was definitely better. The conversation flowed and everything seemed so peaceful. So normal. This was his family now. His life. 

 

Sam turned in at around ten, as he was basically falling asleep on his feet. Cas took Lola outside for a little walk and Beth joined Dean in the library. Both of them with coffee in hand and plates of chocolate cream pie. “Thank you, Dean for welcoming me here.”

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

“I know it probably wasn’t easy. I would understand if you were still hesitant about it.”

 

He set his plate down. “I’ll be honest. I thought it was an absolutely terrible idea for you to move in here.” She nodded and looked down. “But that’s because I didn’t...Sam’s lost a lot and I just didn’t want him to lose anyone or anything else.”

 

“I know.”

 

“And there are bad things out there that always have a way of finding us. I just didn’t want anything bad to happen.”

 

“I get that. Sam’s told me pretty much everything. Although I suspect he has glossed over some things for my benefit. And I know he’s lost a lot, as have you. But I want you to know something. I love your brother. I think I have since I met him.” She chuckled. “And I’m not one of those flowery romantic type of girls. I was always one of those who didn’t believe in love, especially with what we do. But then your stupid brother showed up with his heart and I was a goner.” She leaned forward. “I’m not gonna hurt him, Dean. He’s my home.” 

 

“I know.” He took a bite of pie and chased it down with a drink of coffee. “I can tell you care about him. I can see it and I can see it in his eyes as well.” He took a deep breath. “And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if it ever comes to it and you guys need to…” He ran a hand over his mouth. “If you guys need to get your own place, away from here, I’ll understand.” She gave him a sympathetic smile, her eyes warm and welcoming. “I mean Sam’s an adult and I can’t control him. And I know that even if you guys don’t live here I’ll still see him.”

 

Beth blinked and got up from her chair. She reached down and pulled Dean into a hug. He hesitated and then put his arms around her. After a minute she pulled away, wiping a stray tear away, and smile. “You’re a good man Dean Winchester.”

 

“Yeah, they broke the mold when they created me.” She laughed. They sat in comfortable silence, finishing their coffee and pie. 

 

* * *

 

The next morning Sam woke Dean and Lola up before sunrise. Both of them groaned when Sam shook woke them. “What the hell, man. Lola doesn’t even get up this early.”

 

“Come on man. Grab Lola. We’re going for a drive.” 

 

Dean rolled his eyes and considered turning over and throwing the blanket over both his head and Lola’s, but he could tell that Sam was not going to take no for an answer. “Okay. Let me get dressed and get her breakfast.” 

 

Once he was dressed and Lola was fed they followed Sam out to the car. “So, where are we going at this god forsaken hour?”

 

“You’ll see.” Dean watched as Sam tossed the cooler into the trunk and he wondered if maybe they were sneaking off to some case that he didn’t want the others to know about. He also saw a bag of treats and water for Lola. 

 

“I swear if you are dragging us on a case without any warning I’ll-”

 

“Just get in the car.” Dean rolled his eyes and got in. Sam turned on the GPS and told Dean to follow the voice. He chuckled and took the orders from the headless voice. 

 

They past a sign for “Glen Elder State Park” just as the sun had fully risen. “A park? You got us up this early to go to a park?”

 

“Hey, we have a dog now. We might as well enjoy nature.” 

 

Dean rolled his eyes and parked the car. He got Lola’s leash and she was doing the little jig before they even got out of the car. They walked around, Lola sniffing every blade of grass. The park was empty at this hour and he figured that that may have been why Sam decided to take them out this early. It really was beautiful. There was a nice little lake and Lola seemed very curious, but not even to go in. After about an hour of walking around, they sat down on a picnic bench near the water. Dean set out a bowl of water for Lola and gave her a couple of treats. They sat down on the picnic bench and Sam pulled out a couple of bottles of water, a thermos of coffee and some bagels with cream cheese. 

 

They sat, just enjoying the scenery and the breakfast. “You know I’ve been taking Lola on a lot of walks around the bunker.” He took a bite of his bagel. “She’s fascinated by everything. Flowers. Grass. Bugs. It’s like everything is interesting to her.” He looked down and smiled. “It’s been pretty awesome actually.”

 

“See, I told you dogs were great.”

 

He washed down his bite of bagel with a drink of coffee. “Yeah, yeah.”

 

Sam glanced over at him and smiled. “You look happy, Dean.”

 

“Yeah. So do you.”

 

“So, be honest. What do you think of Beth?”

 

He shrugged. “She’s okay, I guess.” Sam gently punched him. “No, man, she’s great.” He looked at him and smiled. “Seriously, she’s totally awesome.”

 

“I’m kind of crazy about her.”

 

“No shit.” Sam laughed and took a few bites of his bagel. They sat in silence for a few minutes. 

 

“Dean, I’m sorry.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For what I said about you being jealous and for bringing up..I shouldn’t have done that.”

 

Dean swallowed and looked out over the water. “Forget it.”

 

“I know how much that hurt you and I...I just want you to know that I don’t think you’re jealous or anything.”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe I am.” He popped the last bite of his bagel in his mouth. 

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I’m so happy for you and Beth is a really great woman. She is. But yeah, I’m a little jealous. You just went for it. No fear or anything. I don’t know if I could ever do that.”

 

“No fear? Dean, I was scared shitless.” Dean looked over at him. “I mean yeah, her already being a hunter helped, but I don’t exactly have a great track record when it comes to women.”

 

“True. You haven’t had the best of luck with the ladies.” 

 

Sam rolled his eyes, but continued. “And I’m still scared. I’m scared she'll get sick of me. Sick of the bunker. Or that she’ll…” He trailed off and Dean saw the fear in his eyes. “But the love I feel for her, man, the fear is worth it.” He smiled and looked out over the water for a minute. “You could have that too, Dean.”

 

“Oh I don’t know about that.”

 

“Weren’t you scared when you got Lola?”

 

“Yeah, sure. I’m scared now. But that’s different. She’s a dog.”

 

“Still. You took a risk and look how it’s paid off. I mean, this dog has just lightened you somehow. Imagine if you took that risk with someone.”

 

“Sam, I’m better, yes. And Lola makes me so happy that it scares the shit out of me sometimes. But I’m still fucked up.”

 

“We all are.”

 

“I know, but I just...maybe I’m just supposed to have friends and the occasional hook-up.”

 

“You deserve so much more than that.”

 

He chuckled. “You sound like my shrink.”

 

“Well, your shrink is right.”

 

Lola looked up at them, a grin on her face. Sam reached into the bag of treats and gave her one. “Man, she’s so spoiled.”

 

“Oh please, you let her sleep in the bed with you.”

 

“I knew I should’ve locked that door.”

 

Sam chuckled. “Missed you, jerk.”

 

“Missed you too, bitch.” They sat watching the water for a little while more and Dean tried to picture this happiness multiplied. 

 

* * *

 

Lola was curled up beside him on the bed. Dean looked down at her, watching her breathing in and out. Her beautiful snore like a warm blanket. He reached into his bedside table and pulled out his journal. 

 

_ I have a dog. Like an actual, real life dog. I’ve never had so much innocence in my life before. Yes, she’s been through pain that I don’t even want to imagine. She’s been tossed aside and abandoned. She’s looked down on and judged for some other humans transgressions. But she still smiles. She still sees the wonder of the world. She still loves. I wish I could be like that. I wish I could let go of the pain and the death I’ve seen. Wish I wasn’t so afraid. But I’m trying. I really am. I’m trying for her.  _

 

He smiled down at Lola, and gave her a quick pat on the head. 

 

_ Beth is living here now. Her things mixed among ours. I thought it would be weirder than it is. I thought it would be tense or awkward. But it’s not. It’s like having a bunker full of hunters. No. It’s like a family. Man, I’m turning into such a cheeseball. I blame it on the therapy. Therapy. It’s become a constant comfort. Sometimes that makes me want to run. Makes me want to screw up so badly that I get kicked out and asked to never return. But mostly it just makes me...hopeful. Ha! Dean Winchester, the ever hopeful hunter. Whoever thought I would say that.  _

 

_ Laura knows. She knows that I’ve been lying about what I do and it bothers me. Not that she knows, but that I feel like I still have to lie to her. It’s been bothering me for some time now. How much easier would it be if I could just tell her what I’ve really been through. The hell I survived. The hell I didn’t. She seems okay with me not telling her, but it’s probably because she could never actually imagine what it is that I really do.  _

 

_ She’s become this important person in my life and ain’t that a bizarre thing. I compared her to a parent and I know that was probably inappropriate or something. In reality she’s more like an older sister. But that’s probably wrong too. She’s my sounding board and she hasn’t given up on me yet. I hope that she never does.  _

 

_ She thinks I could find what Sam has with Beth. Maybe, but I have a hard time believing that. But I find myself wanting what Sam has. Wanting someone to share this crazy, absurd, scary as hell life with. I just don’t know who that person would be. Who would want me? Yes, I know I’m good looking. I’m not above noticing that. But am I worth more than that? Am I someone that someone wants to grow old with? Am I someone that can be the other half? Complete someone’s sentences. I tried to have something like that with Lisa, but I was so gone that it couldn’t even come close to a real relationship. What would that look like for me? Would we hunt together? Cook together? Love together?  _

 

_ I’m trying to picture it. Trying to picture being happy more than sad. Being hopeful more than doubtful. Being loved. Truly loved for everything that I am. For every fucked up thing I’ve ever done. For all my short comings. For everything that I am. I’m trying to believe I deserve that. I’m trying to believe that I’m worth more than I thought. One step at a time, right? And I’m taking as many steps as I can.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The park is a real park, but I've never been. Not sure how great or peaceful it really is, but it looked like it from the pics I saw. 
> 
> This is the final chapter for this part. I hope to have the first chapter of the next part up within the next week. Thank you to everyone who has support this fic. It's been such a journey for me writing this and it just keeps going. I hope everyone likes the direction the next part will take. It may be just a little different. 
> 
> Feel free to follow me on Twitter @EAprilBeauty or on Tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/blog/seaavery. But I will warn you that I am not very good at Tumblr. I just recently rejoined and still find it so confusing. Lol
> 
> Love and hugs to all. <3

**Author's Note:**

> I was a huge Dazed and Confused fan in high school and I think Dean would be obsessed with that movie and the soundtrack. Also, I have a bit of a thing for Dean and Donna's friendship and I wish we could see more of it in the show. I think they are kind of kindred spirits.
> 
> I have mapped out where I see this part going, but please let me know if their are any characters you would like covered in this part and if they are not already planned to be in here, I will try and fit it in. :)
> 
> ETA: I realized that I named Dean's childhood friend Laura originally. Seeing as how that is the therapist's name, I decided to change that. Need my brain to wake up I guess. Also, I corrected the misspelling of Jody's name. Seriously brain, wake up.


End file.
